The One That Got Away
by Penny Lane 1776
Summary: Abby was forced to became a whore after being handed over to Hank Lawson to pay her father's expensive gambling debt. But time will force irreconcilable changes between the two and will Abby be able to change him for the better?...UPDATED 09-01-12.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Dr. Quinn, I'm not usually a fan of Hank's (altho. now that I am older looking back on the show and pics of all the characters I find him oddly quite sexay!) but there is one particular area that has always interested me to NO end...that's the well I think you ought to read to find out!**  
  
_Rated: Oh R, for language, sexuality, and Hank as another writer said about him "that speaks for itself, trust me"._  
  
She knew she was fucked the minute her father handed her over as collateral for loosing a high stakes poker game. Only fifteen, she was wise enough in the ways of the world to know her already hellish life may have just topped itself. Colorado Springs was meant to be a one day pit stop for her father to get final supplies together and get all final gambling out of his system before they headed to California. Although she believed there was no gold left to be made rich quick, her father did and he hands had beaten enough sense into her to do as bid.

So when she was rudely awaken from falling asleep in the box at the stable where their lone horse and mule were being kept, the first time off of her feet truly in several weeks, she was not amused.

"Abigail wake your ass up." She shook sleep out of head as she was roughly pulled to her feet, and shoved by her father towards a man with long golden hair and a whisker covered face,

"Here she is."

What was running through the girl's mind was that her father was to drunk off his ass to beat her, so he'd found some fool to do it. Altogether what did happen in her opinion then was just as bad.

Looking back now as the train carried her towards this place in her mind she remembered so vividly was not nearly as bad as if she had stayed with her very abusive father. Her memories continued on as the lull of the locomotive was peaceful combining serenity with the soft rain on the tin roof, transported thirteen years prior.

"Ain't she a little too young?" The gruff unknown man had asked after moving further into the lanterns light to get a better view of her.

"She's fifteen; she can do the damned work quite fine." Abby looked at her father, a man of black hair speckled with gray, her mother had left ten years ago and never once had she heard from her. Left to her father's devices, she was secluded from the rest of the world except for the bi yearly trip to town.

School had been a privilege and taken much effort on her part to get her father's permission to go. Starting late at the age of eight, Abby had only known about school because of her mother, who used to be a school marm before marrying Abby's father. Abby caught on quick and by ten was caught up with the children her age, smart as a whip she had continued on straight through, graduating all the grades at twelve. Her father had not allowed her to continue her education. In fact his attitude towards his daughter had gotten worse, beatings plagued the girl, and fear was a constant force in her life.

The girl's attention snapped back to focus as she found the man shaking his head as he surveyed her.

"She ain't much to look at."

"Well she's young yet, c'mon I ain't got the fuckin' money yet, but when I do, I'll send it to you and ya can send her my way. Keep her a form of collateral. Whatever she makes in wages'll be yours to keep."

"You won't send me anything; I want her to sign a contract for five years first, so I'll at least get my money back through her."

"Whatever works my good man! Come on Abby, you'll being stayin' here with this fine fellah, what was your name again?" The man turned away from Abby and looked at her father for the first time since arriving in the stable.

"Hank, Hank Lawson." Hank's attention turned back to Abby, "When do you turn sixteen?"

"Soon, next month actually." Abby said squarely, narrowing her eyes. "What kind of contract?"

"Abby, just go with Hank, I'll send for you at the end of it." Her father shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly as he said this and headed for the horse and mule, pulling them out of their stall. Abby watched him silently head them towards the large doors, stopping only to get the horse it's saddle and the mule its pack basket. As he mounted the horse, Abby realized what had happened; she tried to chase after him, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Pa! No, Pa please don't leave me...I'm sorry Pa!" She didn't get far; a pair of strong arms grabbed her at the gate's opening and pulled her back. Angrily she stomped on her captor's foot and was momentarily let go as she tried to flee. In seconds flat, she was pinned on the ground, the wind knocked out of her as her captor pummeled himself on top of her. Abby focused on trying to get her breath back as time seemed to move evanescently slow.

Finally after flailing about, then just giving up he got off of her, dragging her up with him. Her face was dirt covered, but in the moonlight gleaming through the roof's cracks he could see feisty sapphire blue eyes. She tried to look tough, but the man both out powered her and was much taller then her, fear slid into her eyes replacing all earlier strengths. The girl began to shake, or rather the young woman began to shake, she did have a bosom after all. Not a terribly beautiful thing, but with all the grime taken off of her she'd look most right pretty.

"Let me go!" She hissed, and the man called Hank shook his head.

"Like hell, we got a contract to go sign sweetie."

"I ain't signin' no contract, you can't make me!"

"Oh I can, and I will, I own ya from five minutes ago until five years from now!" He pushed her in front of him, forcing her to movie along with a continuous jab from long and strong fingers.  
"I refuse."

"Listen here!" He growled as he twirled her around. "I own ya now, your Pa, he owes me five hundred fucking dollars. Do you realize how much of a loss that is to me, since, well he can't pay? Anyhow he and I made a little deal, he put you up as collateral and I decided to go along with it, why not---after all I can always use another girl about the place. You'll be just fine once you'se all cleaned up."

Abby's head was bent down and she refused to look at him until he finished speaking.

"But I had no say in this deal, I ain't agreeing to it." Hank shook an exasperated head and shoved her forward yet again.

"Jest get movin' doll."  
  
Upon arriving at what Abby took to be the saloon, with the typical horses out front, a faded sign stood up top of the building, unreadable in the dark, she'd later learn this place was known as THE GOLDEN NUGGET. Hank continued to shove her along inside the swinging doors, past the looks of remaining customers as the night began to die down, past the bar which a woman with dark raven brown hair was washing in a tight fitting red dress was washing. There was only one other girl to be seen, a lithe blonde, laughing at a customer who was clearly taking advantage of her in Abby's eyes, she was dressed in a skimpy blue number.

It wasn't until they reached a small back room, the darkness of night receding that was lit up by Hank lighting a lantern, he let go of her right arm. A scarlet red handprint covering where he had been holding her, Abby used her other hand to desperately try to rub the marking away. He immediately grabbed a piece of paper, marked by her father's signature; Hank shoved it under her face.

"Read the goddamned thing if you plan on arguing with me anymore." Abby's eyes scrolled the parchment shoved under her face. It was written in her father's poor and barely legible penmanship.

_ I hereby admit my defeat and regretfully as I cannot pay the owed five hundred, hand over my daughter Abigail Lily Grover to Hank Lawson. I bid Mr. Lawson the allowance to do whatever is deemed necessary of my debt; he may do as he wishes with my daughter.  
Reginald Grover_

"How can you prove this in a court of law?"

"Easy---this paper is legit in every way, and 'sides do you think the authorities really give a shit about this kind of stuff?"

Reality hit hard in Abby's churning stomach, she felt as if her heart had frozen over. Her father had treated her like a sack of shit, but she never thought once he'd be low enough to wager her in on one of his many hanging debts from a gambling addiction. Sluggishly she felt herself nodding in agreement with Hank.

"Oh my..." her voice felt as weak as her knees. "My own father sold me....to a barkeep!"

"Yes sweetheart he did, now about my contract, you'll be signing it tonight, right now, so take a seat over there. Oh and for added safety on my part of getting my debt back, it just so happens the deputy sheriff was in here tonight during while the deal went down and he signed a contentment to all what occurred." She was officially and royally screwed and sold over by her father as consignment in a debt she'd had no part in making.

"But, what kind of contract?" She asked nimbly as she sat down, fear stinging within her, afraid she already knew what she'd be doing.

"Oh as a lady of the evening but of course." Hank said it so nonchalantly as if she had asked him if it would be alright to become a whore. For a whore was what Abby found herself headed for. She felt him turn and look at her, papers in hand, she was so young to him, but had a youthful beauty clean water and soap would force to appear.

"Here, five years, sign it, at the end of it, you'll be free to go wherever the hell you want, the debt'll be paid and you'll be given some chunk change if ya ain't too much trouble."

"Ohhhh, I, but---I." She stumbled to find the words, scared of the blatantly obvious realization in front of her. Hank shoved the contract towards her with an inked quill.

"Sign it!" His voice was harsh, he was sick of bull shitting around with this little woman.

"But I ain't never done this before, I ain't ever laid with a man." Desperate and fumbled attempts to ward Hank's forced deal away.

"Trust me, in here that will be very quickly taken care of. Sign it, you'll start tomorrow night." His tone was serious and not caring that he was dealing with a virgin, it wasn't the first time either a girl was new at this line of work and it wouldn't be the last. With a hand shaking profusely Abby admitted her defeat and signed the ledger, signing the contract for her was signing away her life, in act of a final blow she sighed and began to cry.

"Oh god, no, c'mon get outta here and go find Birdie, she's the brunette out 'hind the bar when we first came it, she'll teach you the ropes, and you room with her tonight, she's my head whore. Now go!"

Abby found Birdie easily and introduced herself with tear stained cheeks. The young woman of twenty two looked her over quickly and silently, determining she was somewhere around sixteen, a normal age for whores to begin at, if not sooner.

"Well wipe your tears away luv, they aren't going to do you much good now. C'mon lets get you into my room so I can teach you all you'll need to know, no doubt Hank's handed me another virgin, as if I ain't got my hands full enough!" She shook her head with frustration, although it was not at this young girl standing meekly in front of her, the third in a month that total seven girls now entertaining. Birdie knew she'd be coming; she'd been there when the commotion over the very large debt owed to Hank went down.

How a father could ever use his own daughter as collateral was beyond her understanding. How Hank could take such a deal on was not beyond her, it was not uncommon for something to be given in collateral on a large debt. A horse or furs had often been used, a young woman at most, but mainly still a girl. Birdie followed her new charge, taking note of her stiffness and apprehension with every step.

"It's the third room on the right; I'll be right in luv." Birdie had a side stop to make, noticing Hank's door half open she barged in without knocking.

"What the hell Birdie, aintcha ever heard of givin' yer boss respect?" Birdie replied to him with wide eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but are we talking about my boss who just turned an innocent girl into a whore?"

"That ain't yer business, just train her, and make her ready for the floor tomorrow night." Birdie would not be dissuaded.

"I imagine she's a virgin, no?" Already annoyed by Birdie's flippant attitude towards him, Hank turned, dark eyed and spoke in an annoyed tone.

"Get to the fucking point; I'm in no mood for this."

"You know what I am getting at without me saying it, you owe that much to her Hank, sometimes you're absolutely despicable, and no wonder Myra's been such a bitch lately."

"You know what fuck off Birdie, leave Myra out of it, you know what to do! Now get the fuck out of here!"

"Fine, you know what I am going to be doing then, don't scare the shit out of her." With that, she turned with an angry huff and receded to exit, heading to her room. She found the new girl silently sitting at the vanity, tears falling steadily down her face, her eyes welling with more globs of salty water. Birdies shut the door quietly and walked over to the girl, handkerchief out and clean, passing it to her.

"Please don't cry, it's not that bad, Hank won't let anyone rough you up, and it ain't like its forever, now now, I'll keep an eye out for ya." The girl looked up at Birdie; her face was filled with fright and exhaustion. "Whatever you need to know I can show you tomorrow, just try and get some sleep."

The girl obliged and changed into the provided night dress, a soft, faded cotton shift, covering her body coming full to its womanly curves and accents. Her head no sooner hit the pillow then she was out, but sleep was not on Abby's side that night as she began the beginning of a fitful few hours.

Birdie didn't sleep long before forcing herself to press the girl to do what had been on her mind the second she knew what had occurred.

"Listen, Abby yer's name right?" The girl turned over on her side, head resting in her hand to view the kind brunette named Birdie.

"Yes, I didn't mean to wake you..." Birdie just shook her head as if

"Listen Abby, now I am just assuming here but I may be way off, are you scared to death about tomorrow night 'cos you're a virgin?" As if a weight had been lifted off of her chest, she nodded.

"Aye."

"Listen if you do what I tell you, at least your first time will be shall we say gentler then it would be with a total stranger," Abby looked at her wide eyed and confused. "But you do not have to do what I am about to suggest, its just that, well I hate to see a kid like you get busted around for being so unknowledgeable your first time out. And trust me with tomorrow night being Friday, you will get picked. Go to Hank tonight, go right now, he'll take care of you; it won't be as bad as being thrown in with a total stranger. Not that he isn't a stranger, but I mean someone who you may never see again, who will most likely be filled to his ears with drink. Or some rough bastard, who's got a liking to scared youngin's. Go on, don't say I sent you, just go, I promise it'll be better then the alternative."

Quietly, Abby tip toed to Hank's room, it was at the end of the stairway on the right, and timidly she raised her right hand, formed it into a fist and knocked.

No answer, now afraid to knock again, but more afraid to return to Birdie and the fate that would lie before her she opened the door slowly. A light from a lantern was dying away slowly as the remaining oil burnt up. A sleeping form in the bed had his back to her; she couldn't tell if he was truly asleep. She walked as quietly as possible over to the bed, her hand shook as she gently laid it on his naked shoulder, and his form was muscular and lean.

In a split second Hank had turned grabbing her wrist painfully, pulled her down towards him and pushed a hunting knife against her throat. Wide eyed, ashen and trembling she tried to gain control of herself, but almost as soon as the knife had made its appearance, it was put away just as quick.

"You should of knocked," his voice was gruff, but he took in her panic, almost feeling sorry for what he was about to put her through. Hank knew why she was here; Birdie had sent her, like the rest since her arrival several years back. An unofficial spokeswoman and head of the hussies, Birdie had consecutively sent all new girls his way who were virgins.

Abby should have been no different, but she was unable to hide her fear, she stunk of it. Others had played seductively, some had played hardball, and others had come with attitudes, but she came honestly with open fright. Birdie must have cleaned her up, her face shone in the fading light, he had been wrong, Hank Lawson had been dead wrong. Standing above him, her face inches from him, was filled with terror, her face was lovely. He hadn't expected her to be beautiful, but unfortunately she was, he thought unfortunately, because for her that would mean all the more men wanting her.

"I...I did." She said in a soft voice, her long messy golden blonde curls slipped from their holding place behind her ears and fell forwards. "You didn't answer; I didn't mean to upset you."

Hank released her wrist and sat up, she moved back only slightly.

"I know why yah here, so don't act holier then thou with me." She trembled a bit more at his harshness, obvious now that they both knew what was to occur. He pulled the covers back on his bed and motioned for her to get in, she swallowed harshly but obeyed, she thanked God he still had covered his manhood. Her eyes wandered his face as he bent over her, his hair dangling on her own face. His hands skillfully rid her of the nightdress Birdie had earlier provided. She trembled yet again under his touch, motionless and terrified.

"You ain't doing me any favors by laying there like a corpse."

"I---I don't know what to do Hank." He smiled momentarily, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissed her forehead, her nose and traveled down to her lips. A weak response was won by his effort, she easily allowed him to explore her mouth with his tongue. He slid one of his hands slowly up and down her inner thighs, while caressing her hair with his free hand.

Effort paid off, and he easily entered her, although Abby could not bite her tongue to conceal the pain he caused when breaking through her virginity. Hank had forgotten the rules, and feeling guilt for her pain, pulled her body closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

He rested his forehead lightly on hers as their breathing labored together, and soon the whole dreadful event was over. Abby wanted to sob, she wanted to die, as she had willingly given herself to a barkeep who owned her for the next five years. Her virginity was gone for eternity. She hurt inside and out, she wished she could die in one way and in another was just as glad it was done. She expected him to shoo her out into the cold hallway as soon as he was sick of her.

Abby sat up, bare back facing Hank and reached for the night dress deposited so kindly on the floor by him. As she began to pull it on, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her stomach and a chin rest on her lithe shoulder.

"You don't have to go yet, I ain't kickin' ya out." Instead of being terrified by this man's suggestion, Abby was relieved, and did not speak until she had pulled her night dress on. Tears stung at her eyes for all that had occurred in the course of an evening and she longed for sleep. Fully dressed as when she had entered, Abby turned to him, dawn's rays fully visible through the singular window above the bed they were sharing.

Hank, found himself infatuated to extent with her, he didn't want her to leave just yet, no he pulled her to him again as he had when they were making love. She did not protest, but allowed him to fully nestle her within his arms, pressed against his chest. He was fifteen years older then her, he'd been younger then her the first time he'd had a woman. She most certainly was not going to be the last one he ever had either. It wasn't uncommon for Hank to take one of his women to bed when he needed to feed his manly urges.

However Abby was going to be trouble for him he feared. Not so much in a disrespect sort of way, for he believed she'd do whatever he or Birdie told her, when he told her. But he already didn't want to share her with the general populous of customers. Hank told himself to get the damned fool notion out of his head, that if anything he had to be harsher on her. He meant to start now, the send her out, back to Birdie to get ready for the day, but when he went to release her, her soft breath told him she had fallen asleep. For three hours as morning's sun rose, Hank let her sleep, holding her closely, wondering how he'd allowed himself into this mess.


	2. CHAPTER 2

The next night Abby was dressed by Birdie in a vivid violet colored dress, sleeveless with ruffles and low cut. Birdie added rouge to her face and lips, a pink color that gleamed in the lantern light. Borrowing Myra's artificial pearls as the finishing tough she accented the young girl's graceful swanlike neck. Birdie had upswept Abby's hair, pulling out little tendrils to adorn her heart shaped face.

"You look as pretty as a picture. Here take a sip of this, it's steaming hot, so be careful ya don't burn ya tongue."

Abby only nodded and obeyed, but when swallowing what she assumed to have been tea, she cringed, sputtered and coughed at a bitter taste that swarmed through her mouth.

"What in the hell is in here?"

"Oh I added a few drops or so of whiskey, it'll help loosen you up, you'll thank me tomorrow for that." Abby's face was that of disbelief.

"Oh Abby, trust me on this one, I have all the new girls do it their first night out. Finish that up and you'll feel much better. Just make sure though you don't have too many drinks with customers afterwards, a few is polite, but if you get drunk, Hank'll be quite peed off with you."

Abby nodded and tediously drank the tea, and pondered Birdie's last comment and several minutes later she spoke.

"You know I think he already is."

"Already is what? Who?"

"Hank, peed off at me."

"What, no not yet, I assure you at one point or another he will be, but not yet, whatever for could he be?"

"My father's debt to him, that's why I'm here, it certainly ain't on my own free will." Abby signed heavily and turned back to the whiskey brewed tea.

"Oh that, well sweetie, we are all here for one reason or another. Jests get your five years done, and then your home free. Make the money and your out, if you do a good enough job the better you'll fit in well here. Jest watch out for Myra she truly has turned into one hell of a bitchy nightmare. Used to be Hank's favourite even after I'd come, now days she jest biding her time."

Abby took a long swallow of the bitter drink, but did not ask the question swirling around in her head. Myra was biding her time until what? Until Hank fired her? Surely not, it wasn't likely he'd fire anyone that would be a loss of contract for him, meaning less money because of less work. So unfortunately another idea of escape was down the tube, it seemed inevitable to Abby she would be spending the next five years here. Then a thought occurred to her,

"Birdie, when is your contract up?"

"I ain't got one." Abby's eyes shot wide open.

"You ain't got one, you choose to stay here?"

"Listen I don't expect you to understand, I'se on a salary of sort, I'm free to go whenever I wish, but where have I got to go? Hank takes decent care of me, not great but decent. I'se to a point where I decide when I got to entertain and when I don't, I'm more known now as the whore turned bartender." Birdie pulled a tight fitting golden colored dress over her curvaceous figure. "Here help me out, tie up the back for me." Abby obeyed and asked a question pestering her thoughts.

"Oh...but you still do entertain?"

"Yeah, when it's busy, like tonight I'm sure I'll end up in the sack with one man or another, maybe two or three if it's really busy." Before Abby could respond there was a knock on the door.

"Ah, they're on time."

"Who?"

"The rest of the girls----come on in ladies---I wanted you too meet them all." The door swung open and all of the girls marched in single file as if it were an everyday occurrence meeting someone new.

"Alright you'll get to know these six well while you're here. This is Star, Britney, Caitlin, Jenny, Deanna and Myra. Myra was out on the floor last night when you got here. Girls this is Abby." They all nodded, dressed similarly in tight, low cut fitting frocks. Some had hair up, some had hair done, and all had made up faces with fake jewels adorning them. Most left the room right after the introduction, citing a item to attend to before the evening got moving fast, but all greeted her warmly except for Myra who stuck around.

"So you're the new whore who's been warming Hank's bed?" Her tone was cutting and her face sneering.

"Myra watch yourself, you can start by getting the fuck out of here."

"Watch myself? Oh what can you do bitch?"

"OUT!" Abby jumped at the harsh tone of Birdie's voice ordering Myra who stood barely over five feet. Someone had Abby met in any other place of life she'd of thought as a sweet little woman misplaced by life's harshness. After she left the room Abby had no time to ask what was pestering her, as to why Myra was the way she was. Hank had appeared at the door, a scowl on his face.

"Damn Birdie how am I supposed to get anyone to take her if she looks too made up, men don't like women that ain't easy."

"Hank you're a damned fool, we're all easy."

"Jest get her on the floor." He disappeared at that as quickly as he had appeared.

"Here Abby just finish the tea and follow my lead, I'll pick them for you tonight." Abby followed her with a weak nod of what one could only assume was forced appreciation. With time she would find her own way and her own independence even within the stifling life she was condemned to for the next five years.

As Abby followed Birdie about milling on the floor, she feared she was going to wretch her tea up, yet slowly but surely she felt the whiskey's effect, men that reached out to touch her, size her up bothered her at first, but with the help of a few more drinks she felt all the unpleasantness drift away. A regular named Timothy Dirk was the man chosen by Birdie for her to "borrow" for the night.

Wobbling up to Birdie's bedroom which was also hers now, Abby got the deed done as quickly as she could, not sure if she was thankful he fell asleep right after wrapping his arms around her. Or if she'd rather have been able to be rid of him, but then have to service yet another stranger. He hadn't been rough, not necessarily gentle; the man of late twenties was now snoring, his shaggy dirty blonde hair covering his eyes. _It_ had been a bit painful, but no where near as bad as last night with Hank, she could bite her tongue this time around.

Timothy had been near gone with drink when he started with her, and as soon as he finished was asleep on top of Abby. Withdrawing him, she'd slid to her side, still however entrapped by his encasing arms. Sleep was no where near Abby's mind as she laid silently, staring out at the night sky listening to the sounds below and next door to her. Birdie had been right, the saloon was busy with many men, many desiring services of such like she had just provided.

It was hard to believe it was a little later then this time last night that everything had changed. That last night at this time, Abby thought with tears pricking in her eyes, she was still a virgin. It was not necessarily the virginity issue which bothered her so much as she had not been raised with a truly strong enforcement of morals, but more that she was now a whore and that was how she been bidden rid of her virginity.

Abby had had no choice in the matter, truthfully speaking, she was glad she had gotten the whole messy situation over with last night. Before taking Timothy with her, Birdie had pressed a small packet of powder into her hands, telling her to mix it with water and drink it either right before or right after the act. She had not done yet, and was almost positive it was a precaution against an unwanted pregnancy. Birdie had forced stale water on her this morning after first returning to their now shared bedroom. The water had tasted odd, beyond stale.

Now as Abby slid carefully out of her customer's arms, she filled a tin cup with water and mixed in the powder thoroughly. She drank it down quickly despite its unpleasant taste, thankful to have a resource pre- provided for her. Abby had heard of in another town of a thing called French cobwebs made of leather and some made of animal bladders. Both were rare and expensive to get, apparently the whores in big cities however had easier access to such things. Perhaps whatever she was drinking now would work just as good, she hoped it would, as well as hoping this night would pass quickly and the knot within her stomach would finally release.

A noise behind Abby startled her and she pulled the shawl she had wrapped about her slender body tighter, turning to see Timothy had woken. He had a dog eared grin about his face and Abby knew without asking he was ready for seconds. She was now feeling tired, and she ached below knowing it must be from all the firsts happening in such a short period of time. He sat up in the bed, peering at her at first before he spoke.

"You're a might younger then I remember. Oh well, c'mon lass lets have a second go now that I'm awake and feeling better, I hardly remember the first and I want to get my money's worth." Abby's purposely adverted her eyes from him as she tiptoed back to bed, dropping the shawl before she climbed back into bed, momentarily allowing his eyes to fully gaze on her naked form.

He pulled her under him as he slid into her quickly, joining them with a rough thrust and continued until he finished, gasping for breath. Abby sighed with what he took for pleasure and what truthfully for her was relief. This time he did not stay in bed however, he dressed quickly and was gone as Abby pulled on a nightdress. It was still very dark out; the pitch black of night had yet to begin receding.

Abby realized this time around she was tired, that she hadn't truly slept much in quite a long time, and with a frustrated grunt she curled up into a ball and fell into a deep sleep.

It was some time before she realized what was going on in the room, at first she thought she was dreaming. Cautiously she raised sleepy eyes above the comfort of the quilts she had made a fort about her. It wasn't Birdie as she expected but Myra, pleading desperately with a man Abby hadn't seen out on the floor before. The tone of his voice was sharp and cruel, most likely from drink, but did not notice her as she slipped out of bed and made way for the door. Intending to get Hank she was caught by the violent stranger who grabbed her about her waist, pulling her tightly against him, meanwhile pushing Myra away.

"And what do we have here?" His voice was coherent but his breath was heavy with booze. Myra stood watching as Abby tried to keep herself composed despite her heavy heart desperately beating much too fast for what she assumed could be good.

"Marty leave 'er alone, she ain't who ya want, so jest come on, lets forget about earlier." And as quickly as the man had turned violent on Abby he released her, wrapping a weak arm about Myra's waist and pulled her from the room.

Shaken by the whole incident, and noticing the sky now a light purplish color she grabbed a wrap and ventured towards the bar to get a sip of whiskey. If the devil's liquid could calm her nerves before, it should be able to do the job now. There were still some stragglers about the saloon, but most either were passed out or too intoxicated to notice her. Slipping behind the bar, she grabbed a shot glass and before reaching the whiskey bottle tripped over a pair of bodies.

It was Star and some unknown man quite in the midst of an act; she was most likely being paid for, especially to do out in the public room. Forgetting the whiskey, she ran back towards her rooms, only to be stopped in the doorway by Hank. He had drink on his breath, but he wasn't any where near being intoxicated.

"Well hello there, all ready to be tucked in are ya doll?" Abby didn't appreciate his tone and informed him of such.

"Well ain't that a pity, but being as I am the boss and you are the whore, guess this jest means I'se gonna have to teach you a lesson. C'mon in little lady."

He cowered over Abby, forcing her into her bedroom. Reaching for her he pushed her into the nearest wall, alright her mind reeled perhaps he was a bit drunk. Hank's hands didn't bother removing her night dress this time, they just pulled it up, pinning her with his legs as he undid his own pants. Abby at this time realized what exactly his little lesson was; it was being taken up against a wall. And she was dead on.

Pressing his hands against her shoulders, and then pulling her up onto him, Hank moved rythmatically slow in the act. It was unlike last night with him, it was unlike with Timothy. As their joining progressed, she felt her breathing rise with her heartbeat, and felt a soft moan dance off of her lips as she felt an unbelievable rapture overtake her body. He finished and left, Abby sitting on the bed, as he turned and spoke.

"That was your lesson; you won't get again that good."

Utterly exhausted Abby fell asleep as dawn's first rays tickled the sky; her small form huddled under the blankets, so that when Birdie came to bed after dealing with the remaining drunks she did not even realize there was anyone else in bed with her. Birdie had seen Hank leave the room, and wondered if she was alright, but matters of the saloon had kept her and when she returned she thought Abby was in Hank's bed. No matter, sleep overtook the head whore for a short while.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Abby had been at the Golden Nugget for several weeks now, she was a regular, fairly well liked by the rest of the girls, a favorite of regulars and under the strict wing of Birdie. Hank had been right, no one had been that good as her second night with him in her room, and in fact Hank had not even taken her nor touched her in a sexual way once since that night.

The weekend was coming to a close with Sunday night looming towards an end when the fight broke out. It wasn't uncommon for a fight within the saloon at any time, but it became an issue when it was over the whores. Birdie had passed on her "safety" customers to Abby, she knew that they'd keep her income flowing and not abuse her much.

Yet this night was different, there was a hanging in town tomorrow for horse thieving, and the town was packed with tons of people. The saloon had been plum packed from morning to night, with gossip about the scandal about to take place. The man to be hung was in his thirties, a notorious outlaw by the name of Jackson Welles. He had been sentenced to hang in 17 different counties, always escaping the authorities until he had been trapped within Colorado Springs.

His so called lawyer was drinking heavily this particular evening, not a very handsome man, with a heavy Bostonian accent; Abby found all of his advances were towards her. Reminding her self for the umpteenth time that this was a job, and a job that the sooner she did what was required, the sooner she'd been done, her five years would be up and she would be out of the Golden Nugget----FOREVER!

His hand slinked up her arm, resting on her elbow, gently tugging at her, saying he had to have her this instant or she'd burst. He tossed the coin over to the bar for Birdie to keep since Hank was out of the picture it seemed for the moment. He followed Abby out of the barroom, an arm wrapped around her waist; they were near the corned of her the doorway to her bedroom when she heard Hank's voice behind her.

Turning Abby slid away from the lawyer trying to hear what Hank had said. But instead of letting go of her arm as she strained to hear her boss's comment she was pulled back quickly and violently by the desperate lawyer.

In an instant she lay slumped against the floor in pain, it happened so quickly, she wondered if she had dreamed the incident. The lawyer had gotten testy as she had deprived him momentarily of her attentions, demanding she pay attention and respect to him. He had snapped her wrist pulling her back to his bulky form and shoving her with all of his weight against her into the wall repeatedly over and over until Hank had reached her and smacked the man with full force on the back of the head with his pistol.

Her wrist ached in pain, she curled up tightly, and waiting for more blows, for to Abby such treatment was the norm. Even in the weeks since he father had disposed of her she had not forgotten his treatment of her. When the blows did not come and she found the lawyer was out cold on her feet, she saw Hank joined by Birdie and Myra all staring down at her.

"This ain't no show Myra, now git." Hank snapped and Birdie followed her without a word of direction from her boss. He bent to be eye level with Abby and reached a hand out.

"Lemme see yer wrist." Abby complied and scrunched her face in pain as he prodded at it,

"I don't think it's broken, we'll wrap it and have Jake look at in the mornin'." Abby nodded and accepted Hank's help to her feet, following him to his office where he pulled out a few old rags and tied them tight about her wounded wrist.

"Alright, how's your head?" Was he all that concerned or was it if she hammed it up she could be released from a night of whoring.

"It hurts a bit, but I'll make by."

"I imagine it hurts, it's bleeding in two spots." Abby's eyes flew open in surprise, the shock of all that had gone down so far in the evening had made her numb to the pain, Reaching up she found warm blood oozing in two spots on her crown, only centimeters away from each other. Hank doused another rag in whiskey and dabbled at her cuts, causing her to wince again in pain, only this time from the unavoidable stinging.

"Alright since ya didn't whine, I'll make a deal with ya. I'll give ya the night off, kick that bastard out but you have to stay in my room. Birdie'll pick up your slack and she'll need the bedroom. Deal?"

"Alright, but where will you sleep?" Hank's expression changed from a serious scowl to a raised eye brow smile.

"Where the hell do you think?" Abby didn't speak, she already knew. "Yeah with you, but you'll be long gone to sleep before I ever get to bed. Now git before I stop feeling bad about this mishap."

"Okay." Abby headed for the door, turning only to toss over her shoulder before scurrying down the hall. "And thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

Abby was awake fairly early the next morning, she keep still and quite, laying at the edge of Hank's bed facing the opposite wall. No word had been spoken betwixt them the night before that he would not touch her, but in an unspoken agreement had been made he would let her be for now, he had thus far kept his half of the bargain.

Abby's wrist ached and she was cold as she shivered lightly. Hank was hogging most of the quilts, and a light sheet was all she had to wrap around her slender form, pulling it up to her chest, but still she could barely get that to wrap her body.

Sitting up slowly as not to wake Hank, she was startled enough to almost fall out of bed when she felt his fingers tracing the length of her back. Inwardly she groaned with the thought, outwardly she couldn't force herself out of shuddering with pain. Abby turned to look at Hank as his fingers lingered on her skin; her eyes were bright and glassy from lack of sleep. He had noticed although she had changed out of her dress from the previous night, she hadn't slipped on a proper nightgown. An old shift which was ripped down the back barely covered her thin body. Her voice was so soft he barely heard it:

"Hank please no, my wrist hurts so, and I just ache all over."

He didn't respond but continued tracing her shoulder blade, having seen the bruises on her back. Abby didn't try to fight him further; she did not speak again, but complied as though if Hank decided he was going to have her she would submit. Her face was full of weariness and pain, if Hank didn't know better he'd of thought she was telling the honest truth. Abby hadn't yet lied to him, so why would she start to lie now. "I can see them goddamned bruises, I ain't blind, didn't I say I'd take ya to see Jake today?" Hank's tone was clipped making her look at him like a beaten dog, immediately making him feel ashamed, but he did nothing to apologize. Ignoring the angst he felt he instead sent her away to get dressed. "Jest make sure it's something' you can wear fer work after, you had yer night off, and like it or not yer back to work."

Abby tiptoed to her bedroom; not wanting to wake anyone up, unsure if there was a man in her room with Birdie. But her room was void of any other company she entered it. Painstakingly she dressed in a pale blue dress which fit her figure tightly, and expelled the little cleavage she had. She reached for her lacy shawl she kept with her at all times out in public and wrapped into around herself, still unable to feel the chill that had crept on her that morning in Hank's bed.

When Abby went out to the bar to wait for Hank she found Birdie asleep behind the bar. Kneeling down, Abby gently tapped on Birdie's shoulder until she came to. Immediately she reached up and cupped Abby's face in her hands, asking: "What is it Abby? Are you okay?"

"No, I mean yeah I am fine, I saw that you fell asleep behind here and I wanted to wake you up so you can get some more sleep in a bed." Abby reached a hand out to help Birdie, but Birdie just sat looking befuddled and replied as she looked upward: "Oh that's sweet of you, are you feeling alright? Mornin' Hank, I'se jest about to go get the dirty shot glasses clean."

"That's what I thought Birdie." Abby turned as he spoke, she had seen the anxiety in Birdie's eyes, and Hank towered over them both with an angry scowl across his whiskered face.

"Hank she's tired." Abby pleaded for Birdie when the older whore moved aside them to gather up dirty glasses and make for the kitchen. Hank's scowl turned darker as he snapped:

"She ain't yer damned concern, now git." He pushed her roughly towards the swinging saloon doors.

Abby inwardly cursed him as he followed her, pulling her towards Jake's by wrapping a strong armed grip around her waist. Jake's barber shop which was just opening for business as he threw a greeting to Hank and the newest whore he'd rarely seen. "Jake I need ya to do me a favor."

"Mornin' to you too Hank, alright what do you need done, you know I just opened shop for the day, so I ain't got all day to be fraternizing out here." Jake said, slightly irked with Hank's abstracted rudeness which was quickly smoothed over as Hank got down to business.

"Calm down Jake, I need ya to check Abby's wrist, see if it's broken and if not do whatever needs done. I got money, but instead why don't you come over also tonight for a round of free drinks and a free hour with any woman you want." Hank's laugh overpowered the flush creeping up Jake's neck. The barkeep in town had a way with embarrassing a man, even when that man was a client.

"Sounds fine, but you know I ain't goin---"

"Oh Jake I know you've taken a fancy in the past to Brit. But you being the honorable man you are, how about two rounds of drinks if you are preferrin' that?"

"Sounds fine Hank. Bring the whore on in and I'll fix her wrist up jest fine."Abby followed Jake with Hank behind her guiding her with his hand fixed firmly upon the small of her back, something inside her always pinched whenever she was referred to as 'whore.' It might be true but she was more than just someone who serviced horny men, she hadn't chosen this line of work, and worse she hadn't asked for it. Sitting upon the edge of the barber's seat, she waited patiently and bit her lip to squeal from pain when Jake prodded, pulled, and pushed about her wrist. The wrist had swollen quite a bit over the course of the night and the rags which Hank had bound about it last night to reverse any such effect had not been successful.

"Well it ain't broke, but it's awfully sprained, say how did you do this?" Abby winced with pain as Jake carelessly dropped her hand and then just as carelessly whipped her wrist up to his face to reexamine. Her wrist was three times the size of her other one. Hank lit a cigar, blew a healthy puff of smoke into Abby's direction before relaying, "We had a testy customer last night who couldn't get his way when he wanted it with her, roughed her up quite a bit, ya oughta see her back."

Again Jake dropped her wrist without care and determined the only solution to the problem he could see, "Leeches, it's gonna be the only way fer me at get the swelling down, it's got to be the leeches." Abby sat quietly as Jake searched in the back room, she felt Hank's eyes on her as she gingerly babied her hurt wrist, and he continued to smoke silently. Jake returned almost instantaneously and applied two leeches on each side of her swollen wrist. Tears pricked her eyes from the nausea she was fighting to keep down as the bloodsuckers began swelling from her blood, Jake added a third one once he saw the leeches were working properly.

Abby was paying little attention to the two men as they talked, joking back and forth, but when Birdie's name came up, she felt her anger rise again from the way Hank had treated her this morning. Feeling it was her dutiful place to defend her friend she spoke harshly towards Hank. He had made her so miserable in life, why the hell shouldn't she speak up. Afterwards she regretted going with the word choice she had.

"Who in the fuck do you think you are anyway this morning? You were such an ass to Birdie this morning...what did she ever do at ya anyway?" Both men looked at her in disbelief. Hank recovered before Jake and tightly grabbed Abby's arm with the swollen wrist. The pain was unbelievable and instead of tears Abby vomited all over Hank, the whole incident only inciting his rage towards her more.

As Loren walked in for his tri-weekly shave Hank slapped Abby across the face with all his force, startling everyone. Immediately Abby's left cheek was a scarlet blood red color. Jake tried to take control of the situation and pulled her into the backroom and removed the leeches, while Loren tried to talk some calming sense into a puke covered Hank, whose ranting was peppered with language that would make even the saltiest of old nuns drop dead from his vile tongue.

Emerging from the backroom from Jake who had wrapped her wrist tightly, Abby headed for the exit of the barbershop when Hank grabbed her with an outstretched hand, pulling her towards him. Terrified Abby complied with him as he grip burned her flesh, fear written clearly across her face.

"Why you goddamned whoring little bitch!" Hank shouted into her ear. Abby snatched herself away from him and headed to the doorway, turning momentarily to face Jake. The whole situation dazzled her senses harshly as she tried to make sense as she spoke. Her vision blurred from tears which desired to fall but she pressed them away as she swallowed the rising bile in her throat.

"Thank you Mr. Slicker, I'll pay you tonight when you are at the saloon."

"You bet you'll be paying him, you're a whore after all, and you pay with your body." Hank said with a sardonic laugh. Abby glared at him as she retorted.

"As if you'd let me forget--I'll be paying him back with money, cold hard cash. Good day." Hank had reached his point of tolerance with her and as she turned to walk out the door, he gave her a shove from behind, Abby went flying out the door, and landed smack into Charlotte Cooper. Hank turned laughing, and shut the door behind him after issuing to Abby to get her good for nothing behind back to the saloon right away.

Dazed and confused it took Abby a minute to gain her baring and surroundings as she got up and tried to dust off her skirt. The woman she had bumped into had been carrying a basket of eggs, now broken, ruined on the dirt as the yolks soaked out into the main street. Abby gulped deeply and quickly apologized: "Oh my, ma'm I am so sorry, I uh can get you some money for them if you just give me five minutes."

Charlotte shook her head politely interrupting the young woman she knew to be Hank's newest whore. "No my dear there's no need, it's not your fault, I saw Hank push you. Please come to my place for a cup of tea and calm down." Abby looked at the woman in disbelief. People, normal people wouldn't just let you get away with ruining something of theirs and then offering you a cup of tea. She stared at the woman before reality smacked her, Hank was probably watching the entire scene play out from the door, as she refused to turn and look but responded: "Oh I couldn't possibly. I truly am incredibly sorry."

"Well alright, I'm Charlotte Cooper I run the boarding house across the street, come see me later if you need anything. Again it ain't yer fault don't worry about it."

"Thank you." Abby ran across back to the saloon, fed up with everything that had happened to her in the near past month. She'd just turned sixteen last week, and five more years in this hell-hole did not appeal to her whatsoever.

Rushing in through the bar room Abby didn't hear Birdie call out at her as she ran to their shared bedroom. Rushing in and slamming the door behind her, Abby stripped down to her undergarments which were a bare covering at that. Throwing clothes all over the place she searched for the clothes she had been wearing the night her father had sold her to Hank Lawson.

Well, in Abby's opinion she had served enough time, she was running away, to hell with this mess, it hadn't been her choice to whore. But she sure in hell wasn't going to run away in a dress he had provided for her. Instead she searched for the dress she had had on the night she had come to Hank's saloon. So engrossed was Abby in trying to find the dress she did not hear Birdie come in from behind her.

"Listen Abby I know what you got yer mind set to do and I am here at tell you

it ain't going to be worth even trying." Abby turned, hot tears stinging her cheeks, unable to control herself at this point, she snapped back.

"Not worth it? You ain't even forced to be here, God only knows why you stay but this morning you were terrified of him. I ain't stayin' I ain't gonna let Hank Lawson own me and use me until I'se twenty. Don't tell me it ain't worth trying!" Her chest heaved as she gulped for air, she was terrified and upset all at once and just wished to God her father had killed her instead of selling her to this man. Hank owned her, he owned her like a slave—and she couldn't stand it, she hadn't been born for this. No one could ever have been born for this; no one should have a lot in life which revolved around men's pricks getting a poke whenever they wanted so long as they paid up front.

"Abby come sit down, calm down, it truly ain't worth it." Abby grabbed her shawl and wrapped it about her shoulders, sitting on the vanity stool across the room from Birdie.

"First off I ain't terrified of Hank, I'se made a few bad decisions in the past few months and well I owe him some what we been callin' overtime. But secondly the most important thing for you however is not to even bother trying to run away—on your contract, the one you signed which is legally binding, there is a area that states even an attempted run away on your part allows Hank to force you into another year of work for him. It qualifies him to keep you stuck here for six years instead of five, didn't you read that?"

Abby was struck silent, her cheek stung, her stomach churned, her wrist hurt terribly and she was shaking like a leaf from fear, overwhelmed with exhausted; she was in a nutshell, miserable. So no, of course she hadn't read that, that night everything had been so awful she hadn't known what to do, and reading the contract fully over had been the last thing on her mind. Words had no chance to form neither to reply, to question, nor to speak before Hank burst in on the their private conversation. His face was narrowed with anger, and his tone was harsh when he spoke to Birdie:

"Git the fuck out of here, we got customers who need tending too." Angry was not the right word, Abby decided but rather furious. Birdie was quick to obey Hank, and soon Abby was left alone, sitting on the vanity stool watching his next move. Hank sunk down on the bed and gave a command: "Git the fuck over here." Abby consented, and when she reached the bed Hank locked his massive hands around her elbows and pulled her inward towards him. Abby was shaking and fearful she might vomit on him again. His touch would leave a bruise no doubt; releasing her Hank pulled a quilt off the bed and wrapped it about her shoulders, but kept Abby at arm's length. His tone was harsh and he kept his eyes locked with her own, she didn't dare look away.

"You never ever undermine me again in front of anyone. What's going on between me and Birdie stays between me and Birdie, you got it?" Abby didn't speak, or give any sign of acknowledgment except keeping her eyes level with his. Hank shook her viciously, demanding an answer.

"Yes! Jest let me go, I realize, I understand, I'm sorry, please let me go." Hank released her immediately stood up and spoke before leaving her bedroom. "You should realize Abby I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you." And with that he was gone, but bitter words were left unspoken on Abby's tongue: "Except for you Hank."

Shaken badly by the morning, Abby laid down for a few hours before redressing in the blue outfit she had been wearing earlier. As she went downstairs to catch up on lost revenue she crisscrossed her way across the floor, her skin was crawling and she just wanted the whole damn night to begin already. But the bar was slow being that it was midweek and no one seemed to be in need of a whore.

For five hours Abby worked the floor without a bite until she saw the familiar grins of Ryan Hansen the short long haired brunette and the shaggy haired tall and somewhat good looking Timothy Dawson, a dirtied blond with chocolate brown eyes. Tim caught her eye and smiled the customary greeting. He'd taken her to bed often since her arrival, and though at first it was awkward as all hell it comforted her when she was with him because he was familiar. Familiarity was a rarity in her line of work; he made her feel safe in a way she couldn't explain. Perhaps it was because he only ever lay with her gently, almost making her feel as if he cared for her pleasure too. He would hold onto her after, wrapping her in his arms falling asleep and staying until morning.

Timothy the son of a wealthy cattle rancher, he had been charged with his cousin Ryan to take care of the Co. Springs branch, since then both had become regulars of Hank. Abby breathed a sigh a relief at the sight of him, knowing Tim would most likely pick her; he hadn't slept with anyone else since her arrival Birdie had noted. Odd that they were in on a Monday night, but, Abby did not care remembering why the town had been so dead, the hanging was postponed. This news of course was from Crazy Joe, an old toothless beer guzzler who always slept with Star.

Sashaying over to Tim, Abby did her best to put on a flirty face despite all that had occurred in the past twenty four hours. She knew better than to draw a customer into her problems. They were there to be entertained—to be taken care of, not the other way around.

"Evenin' darlin'." Tim grinned up at her, as he wrapped a loose arm around her, playfully tugging at her as she fell into his lap. He and Ryan were swapping dirty jokes and stories with the other men in the saloon. Tim played gingerly with her dress and her hands in such a care free manner, which as Myra observed from afar, swore if they were in any other situation they were falling for each other. In the last few weeks Myra had noticed the easy camaraderie between Abby and Timmy, they seemed comfortable with each other. Men often felt guilty for their sexual needs and a whore could be treated worse than a cowhand, or as well as a princess. So long as Abby didn't forget that Tim was a client, and he was at the base of it all, paying for her time. He slid a hand up and down her arm, barely noticing her bandaged wrist.

Within an hour, Tim had had several drinks, Abby a few, but not enough to not feel his desire for her. He pushed her up gently, and lead them away from the table, his voice husky as he spoke to her: "Take me to your room, so we can be alone...now." Although commanding, he wasn't harsh or too forceful. Abby wrapped her arms around his lean middle as his buddies playfully taunted him, unlucky enough to have a favorite who'd pay them first call.

Tim left enough coins with Birdie at the bar to keep Abby as his all night long. Timothy kept one slight hand on Abby's arm and the other hanging loosely about her neck. He pulled himself together long enough to reach Abby's bedroom. As she opened the door to lead the way to her bed, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her small body into his tightly work-chiseled one. As he did such Abby felt his desire for her even more and wondered for the first time ever if he had a wife. He mustn't she tried to assure herself if he kept coming to be serviced by her. But she knew damned well it wasn't unheard of--in fact it was completely common for wedded men to get extra action in their town's brothel once wives had grown too weary of the marital act. Abby felt herself burned by the thought and pulled away absentmindedly as Timmy followed her lead.

"Abby, don't tease lass, c'mon love I need you." Pulling her back to him gently, he used his lips to work down her throat as she led him towards the bed, turning to face him only when they had reached it. Tim reached for her hand to pull around his neck as he pushed her under him as Abby cried out in pain."Owww, nnno."

Immediately she saw Hank in the doorway and startled by her rebuttal Timothy was shocked. "Everythin' okay in here?" Hank asked, pure annoyance floating into his tone which he made no attempt to hide.

"Yyyess," Abby squeaked out. Tim however looked unsure and stood speechless. Hank walked in and patted change into the young man's hand.

"Take it, go git another girl 'cept the one behind the bar and enjoy a freebie on the house. I'se got some lesson teachin' t a do with Abby here as her men pleasing skills seemed to have gone to shit."

"No Hank it ain't that, he accidently squeezed my sore wrist, it wasn't on purpose—I just didn't bite my tongue in time." He entered the room pulling Abby viciously into his arms. Before his mouth descended upon hers he shot out a few words.

"Git Tim, git now and you can have her back later." Timothy still looked stunned and dragged himself out of the room. Hank's hands went to work, pulling at Abby's clothing, kneeling over her on the bed. Abby's face was pale, but she made no complaint as Hank pulled off his shirt, kissing her once it was lodged on the floor. He worked his way up to her ear, whispering, "You'll learn to please a man the proper way."

Abby nodded and pulled at his trousers like she supposed she was expected to do. She closed her eyes as Hank's body encompassed hers. Frustrated she responded as she felt her body awaken to Hank's touch. Abby got no pay when Hank took her for his at night, considering this was only the third time; it wasn't an everyday occurrence fortunately. Yet, last night she hadn't worked and technically while she was servicing a man tonight, it wasn't one who had to pay.

Abby complied when Hank separated her thighs with his knee, letting her breath out as his weight settled on hers before rising again as he established a pattern of motion. Given the choice, Abby would have preferred a night with Timothy, the only customer she had on a regular basis who didn't frighten her. Hank instead petrified her, because not only did he owned her body; he could take her body to have whenever he wanted such as now.

But Hank had a stamina she had not experienced with other men, and this night he seemed intent on taking his sweet time to finish. Abby's head rested gingerly on the pillow, her hands fell onto his back, but she found her hips began to rise to meet his every thrust and finally it was over. Abby shuddered as Hank's warmth spread within her; she fell back into the bed, her heart racing. Hank fell besides her, lying on his side, watching her closely awaiting her response, but when none came he spoke. "It's not just good for the men, I wanted you to see that Abby. It'll make you better."

Hank saw her close her eyes, her face still and void of emotion; she held her bandaged hand tenderly, as the wounded wrist still ached. Hank traced her arm nearest to him from his fingertips up to her earlobe, pulling back as her sapphire blue eyes opened wide. She turned her head to face him, naked and beautiful,

"I should get back to work right? I mean I don't…I mean I, I uh..." She had no idea how to precede forward, Hank was warm and while she feared him he had not hurt her when he had taken her. He toyed with a lock of her hair as he responded.

"So don't go Abby. You can just stay here tonight." Stunned, Abby retorted, stumbling over her response.

"But what about the contract and deal, I ain't gonna make you any money in here tonight." Her face was full of worry and began to slide out of bed to dress as Hank reached for her and pulled her back laughing.

"I meant it, don't worry Abby, you've worked enough tonight, you've paid in full. Go onto sleep." She smiled her thanks and let him brush his fingers down the length of her arm, before turning her around and pulling her body into his. Quickly, warm and about as safe as she ever would be with Hank she fell off to sleep.

Hank however stayed for a while, watching her sleep, knowing he should keep his distance from her, or else he'd lose the power he held over her. And furthermore he wasn't the kind of man to get tangled up with a whore, he slipped out of bed, dressing and left, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Abby slept the whole night through for the first time since she had arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning when Abby awoke Hank was already gone for which she was thankful. Yet she remembered with haste her neglect from the night before to take the powdered water which she fretfully ran to mix it quickly and drink it down. As she washed and dressed, she realized she was still tender from the night before last. A knock on her door surprised her—it was too early for Hank even, and she hadn't technically had to work. Going to answer it she was met by a wonderful surprise: Timothy was on the other side grinning at her.

"God you are such a breath of fresh air in the morning, even more beautiful now than I thought possible." Abby smirked; he could be such a cad at times. "Hi there to yourself Mr. Dawson and to what do I owe this fine honor so early in the morning? Did you pay downstairs? I can't imagine anyone is awake this time of morning." He laughed quietly at her response but it was a bit a forced, of course she thought he was just there on business—the business of pleasing him. When he responded, his gaze held on her for quite some time astonished her significantly.

"I stayed over at Cooper's boarding house last night; I'm just here to fetch Ryan. We've got a full day of work ahead of us yet. I just thought I'd stop by to say 'good morning.' But he's still asleep, I actually don't know who the hell he ended up with last night. I guess it was Myra, I imagine he'll be up soon enough." Abby let her door open wider and he took the hint without words as he moved inside as she shut the wooden door quietly behind her, left open just a crack without her realizing such. Tim sat down on her unmade bed as she stood, leaning against the door; unsure what to make of the current situation in front of her. He clearly had no intention of bedding her this very moment or so it would seem and the ease betwixt them came so easily it surprised her.

"Why didn't you just stay here after being with one of the other girls?" She was clearly confused while he stared at her, watching her face closely as he answered.

"Because I didn't go to one of the other girls. I saw that Ryan was being entertained by Myra, and after a stroll through town, I had cleared my head enough to realize that I just needed to get some sleep, so I went to Charlotte's and got a room even though it was late." Misunderstanding was written all over her face, as she went and sat down next to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his eyes meeting hers. "You don't get it do you Abby?" he smoothed a thumb over her cheek. "I didn't want any of the other girls; never have since you walked into my life. I just drank more than usual last night. Much more. I never had any intent of going after anyone else. Were you okay? Did Hank hurt you?"

Abby shook her head in response, looking away, just a bare wrap covered her slender frame; the silken sleeve fell back around her arm as she pressed her fingertips into her forehead. What was he trying to say instead of what he was actually saying? Or was it that he actually was saying what it was he wanted said? Of course men were just as confusing as women, regardless of the facts, she had no idea what Timmy meant, up until this very moment he had only been a customer. A respectful and well-liked customer at that, but all the same, he had been exactly just that.

Footsteps ending outside her door made her look up quickly and pull away from him as both Myra and Ryan walked in. "Good morning to you there Miss Abby is it?" Ryan sauntered over to his cousin to give him a playful slap on his back. "Well I s'pose you'll be wanting to get back to the ranch? Had your morning bite now you're chomping at the bit eh?" Ryan laughed, he typically seemed to always be good natured Abby had noted. Although Myra had slept with Ryan on a few occasions but they weren't a regular pairing, Ryan would sleep with whoever was free on the floor that night. Although he had never slept with Abby, Timmy had always taken to pairing with her since the first night he had appeared into her life.

"Yeah, you are right we should get heading out," Tim responded as he moved up and away from the bed but said: "Listen I'll meet you downstairs." Ryan smirked but took the hint without any argument as he pulled Myra away with him, the sound of two feet headed down the wooden steps reminded Abby of the sound of a horse plodding. Holding his hat in hand he drank in the sight of Abby sitting carelessly in the unmade bed with the sunlight rays dancing around her, her golden hair on fire in the morning light.

"Listen Abby I'm not going to be able to get back into town for a few weeks or maybe even more. There's a lot to be done out at the ranch, we'll be leaving on a cattle drive soon so the work load is doubled. If you have a free day this week or the next, come on out, I'd love to see you." She smiled and bid him farewell but said nothing on his offer either way. The whole situation this morning just plain stunned her; long after he was gone she sat in the warm sunlight with her mind drifting in and out of confusing thoughts. A knock on her door startled her as she looked up to see Myra's head peeking in.

"Mind if I come in?" Myra asked her quiet voice, it was still too early for most of the girls to have risen, Hank however was probably out at Grace's getting breakfast or shooting the shit with Jake at the barber's shop.

"No, not at all. Are you alright Myra?" Abby asked her voice filled with concern, but also a twinge of uncertainty, Myra had never truly warmed up to Abby, despite her feeble attempts to by friendly and kind.

"Yes," Myra answered shutting the door behind her. "Listen I came to apologize for being so miserable to you since you got here. I know Hank has taken a liking to you, he hasn't slept with any of us in a long time." Abby felt her face flush with a heated blush, she hadn't chosen to be bedded by Hank, and if it were her choice he never would again.

Before Myra had broken her quiet revere she had been half-toying with the idea of pleading with him to never do what he did to her last, ever again. But Hank wouldn't listen, in fact Abby figured, the simple request would anger him and she had no desire to once again be reason for the brunt of his anger. Yesterday had served as enough of a reminder she would do well to continually remind herself, the angrier Hank was with her, the more of a living hell her life spiraled downward into. Myra didn't realize this as she sat down beside Abby, and tried to comfort her, albeit misunderstanding Abby's shame. However, Abby cared little with setting the record straight, because it would then raise questions, and those were not questions Abby wanted to entertain, let alone answer.

"Oh Abby don't be embarrassed, Hank—he's come to all us girls at one point or another, used to be just mainly me and Birdie since we'se the ones that came with him from Denver, but often it was jest me for a time. Hank's well he's Hank…but that ain't why I'm here, I ain't here to discuss you two. But please first off can you forgive me for being so wretched I can't really go into detail, right now at least? It's because it's pretty obvious that Timothy Dawson's taken quite the liking to you. Some might go so far to call it puppy love."

So Abby's internal war was being viewed by others, she shook her head trying to keep her emotions in check. "Thus Abby don't let him—Timmy, don't let him fall too in love with you. You can let the poor guy fall as far into lust with you as he wants, but love gets tricky. And a man who falls in love with a whore is prone to gettin' jealous and always having to have _his _girl whenever he's in here. It's a vicious cycle, I seen it happen to a few girls here and back in Denver, and frankly Abby—with your current situation, it's the last thing you want or need to be happenin'. Plus, Hank's a vicious man when he thinks one of his girls is bein' wooed by a customer so if you got anything in the reciprocatin' manner towards Dawson you best wash it and leave it out to dry. You drop any right to emotions the minute walk into this bedroom. Your function is to please a man's needs, not look for a husband. I don't mean to sound harsh, but I just don't want you to be getting' into any trouble."

"Okay." Abby said meekly, her head had begun to ache the more Myra talked, everything she was fighting within herself was out in the open, save for the fact she couldn't admit to any of this to Myra, it just wouldn't be plausible. Closing her eyes she listened as Myra continued.

"And you seem like such a nice girl Abby, I jest don't want you to be gettin' on Hank's bad side. You look as if you could use a little extra powder under yer eyes. Here let me, they're a bit sunken. Abby I'm hopin' you'll let me be your friend."

"Of course Myra, there's no reason we can't be friends. Thank you for your advice, I'll be sure to heed it." Myra nodded and reached for the makeup on the vanity, setting to work on her fellow whore's face, trying to disguise the sunken eyes. A few tricks later and Abby was ready to start working the floor, which hours later as customers started trickling in she accomplished quite well.

Timothy had been true to his word and had not yet been able to return to the saloon. Abby's friendship with Myra grew, while Birdie grew more distant from her, Hank having taken to sharing his bed with Birdie, for which Abby was quite thankful. Occasionally she would catch Hank's eyes resting on her, but they were gone before she could look again. He had not attempted to touch nor take her to bed since that one night, while oddly enough in their personal relationship they grew more comfortable. And while Abby knew ultimately he was the boss and he owned her, a slight form of mutual respect grew between the two. Hank often found himself amused by the young whore's wit and charm that he hadn't previously known existed.

Several weeks later, a week arrived with such hard rains it seemed the world might drown in water. Men arrived to drink in their slickers, fucked in their slickers and then left drunk off their ass in their slickers. Abby was exhausted; a shortage of men seemed no longer to exist, and she was constantly entertaining a flowing bevy of men. Also on top of her whoring duties she'd taken over many of the bar duties Birdie was leaving left unattended too in her growing affair with Hank.

Finally on Thursday of that week, a familiar face arrived back at the Golden Nugget much to Abby's surprise. While she thought of Tim often, she had begun to think he might never reappear. Abby did not recognize him at first, the collar of his slicker pulled up high to guard his neck from the downpour, covering up a majority of his face. The second he peeled his slicker off leaving it to Ryan, he left his cousin to a table of card players and moved towards the bar having spotted Abby the moment he walked in. A dogged grin covered his face as Abby couldn't help but smile back at him, as she stood behind the bar desperately trying to ignore the intense feeling of warmth blossoming within her.

Despite the warnings Myra sided up to her and offered to take over the bar duties for the night. Abby easily gave them up without any coaxing, as she went out to meet Timmy. Myra watched as he pulled Abby into his arms, kissing her full on, before pulling back and whispering something into her ear. Myra grimaced to herself watching the scene unfold: any other place in the world with Abby in any other profession and you could have sworn the two were long lost lovers, finally being reunited after being challenged by life's changing tides. She hoped for Abby's sake, Hank had not also been witness to this scene.

Abby didn't know what came over her as she held tightly onto Timmy, caring little they were embracing in the middle of the barroom floor. His words were sweet and short, and Abby had a million things she wanted to say in response, but quickly lost her confidence to do so as she saw Hank emerge into the barroom from the corner of her eye. Instead Abby coyly said: "You must want to be heading to the bedroom, c'mon I think you know the way."

He nodded, but was surprised at her response, so casual and then he felt it—she was trying to distance herself from him. And then he felt ashamed with himself for the entire fiasco. Sleeping with a whore casually was one thing, but to have feelings for a whore—Tim shook his head gravely at his own recognition. He must keep such feelings to himself, to Abby he assumed he was just another customer, albeit a regular. Myra watched as Abby exited with Tim, leading the way, shaking her head with sorrow, they had fallen for each other. Unbeknownst to Hank most likely or he'd be keeping them apart. Yet if he weren't so occupied with Birdie, he'd of seen it on their faces when Timmy had pulled her towards him.

The second Tim had entered the saloon his eyes had searched for her, Myra had seen him before Abby even had, but Myra wondered if Abby realized unbeknownst to her, that her own face had lit up once recognizing him. Desire for each other and feelings were written all over their faces like ink to pad. Myra had sworn several times to herself she would never let herself fall for a customer. If only she had the ability to look into the future, she'd see a similar story to be written for herself in the coming months.

Abby was drowsy after they finished and lay lazily in Tim's arms with a slight smile upon her lips. He lay awake, but neither of them spoke as his fingers tousled her already messy hair albeit more. If only she wasn't a whore, if only he could have met her in a regular setting instead of drunk one night, maybe things could be different. His thoughts were interrupted as she turned to face him, curling her body closer to his, he savored her closeness, her perfume—the sweet scent of lilacs swirled in the air.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" Her voice was soft, and he had no second thoughts as he responded earnestly, pulling gently at a messy curl.

"Thinking about you." His southwestern accent was barely audible but she heard him and snuggled close into him, his chest warm to the touch, she rested her head under his chin, her nose just touching his neck, warmed by her breath.

"Oh and why is that?" Abby asked, her voice muffled and he strained to hear her.

"Because I just wish I could take you away from here forever and have you be mine, only mine." Abby's shifted quickly, looking up at him; her blue eyes were bright with surprise.

"But I am yours right now, I am only yours at the moment, I'm right here Tim." Stay wisps of hair fell into her eyes; Tim raised a hand to push them away and cupped her heart shaped face in his hands.

"No Abby, I meant _mine always,_ all of the time." His tone was steady; Abby swallowed harshly, if Hank had heard what he just said she knew that Timothy would never be allowed to have her again. Myra's words of warning flooded back into her mind as she inwardly cringed as she realized what he was saying she desired. She tried to ignore her flowering emotions as she responded.

"Shhh, now don't say such foolish things, what would your wife say if she knew how often your fraternized with only me. A whore here and there is fine I suppose with most women, but only one whore, the same one over and over here and there would most likely be a touchy subject." Abby watched his face closely as a smile bloomed on his handsome face and a comforting laugh rolled out. He slid a work worn hand down her back, lightly tickling her as he answered.

"Abby there is no other woman, you are the only reason I come in here anymore, you are the only woman I want to spend my nights with, and if it were my way—my days. You in my mind are Abby, the young woman who's been put in a shitty position, not Abby the whore I want to fulfill me momentarily." Abby's eyes widened with shock, and she looked away, resting her head back against his chest, waiting several minutes before she asked.

"What are you saying Tim?" he responded immediately, his tone serious.

"I'm saying Abby, that if this was any other situation and you weren't bound to Hank Lawson, I'd take you home with me this instant and make an honest woman of you. I adore you— even love you; you should know that by now. I'm twenty six I know it's foolish but I don't care." Abby took this all in, uncertainty floating through her, a discomforting feeling of frustration that she was stuck in one life, a miserable existence she hadn't chosen, while another one was being offered to her—no strings attached, except she had no way of ever attaining this offered life, at least not in the next five years. Finally sitting up she answered Tim, critically saying:

"You can't fall in love with a whore, and don't tell me lies that you think you need to get me to bed you. All you have to do is pay up front and you can bed me as much and easily as you'd like. I am just a whore; after all fucking is apparently what I do best."

Abby moved out of the bed, slipping on her shift which had been left deposited on the floor. Tim sat up, the quilt falling into his lap, as he rubbed a hand roughly through his hair. He pleaded with her saying, "Abby don't be like this, the entire month I've been gone all I wished I could just waltz in here and take you away with me. I'm sorry for how you've been treated, and I know I certainly haven't helped matters have I? If you want me to leave your room for good, I will, I will never ask to have you again. But don't tell me that you didn't light up tonight when you spotted me; I saw that you did with my own two eyes. Abby when I got you in my arms you grasped me so tightly I thought you'd break me if you didn't brand me first." He shifted to get out of bed, but she raised a hand up to stop him.

A singular tear ran down Abby's face, and he longed to brush it away and pull her into his arms, but she moved quickly away to the other side of the room before he had a chance. In a clipped tone she snapped at him, her back turned:

"I ain't anythin' but a whore, and I ain't even gonna be anything for quite a long time. If I gave you the wrong idea Mr. Dawson I apologize, but please do not ask for me again, I hope you were satisfied tonight and if not take your money and go find another whore to have a try at. But do not ever come in here asking for me again—please get out now so I can get ready for the next customer." Tears fought to be released from her eyes as Abby waited for him to dress and showed him the door. All that Tim had said should have made her rejoice, yet it didn't. Instead it broke her heart as she slammed the door behind him and sunk onto the floor, her cheeks wet with the tears that she finally let flow. "Oh God...what have I done?"

It took Abby several minutes to get her emotions under control as she realized she had grown to have feelings for Tim, just as true as his were for her. This was supposed to be impossible. She knew she couldn't go to Birdie with this matter for she and Hank were inseparable as of late and it would be impossible to discuss such a matter with her without Hank finding out. No, the only option was Myra, and as soon as she resolved who she must talk to there was a knock on the door interrupting her thoughts. Abby moved away from the door, wiping her tears off of her face, pressing her tear stained hands against her thighs.

"Yes?" Abby called out as Hank entered in, he seemed jolly, a term she had never thought to match Hank too. He must have been drinking.

"What is the problem little lady, kickin' my customers out of bed ain't necessarily the best way to get them to call again." Unsure how to respond, Abby tried to play off the situation with feigned ignorance. "Uhm, I uh don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't," Hank retorted angrily. "Abby come on—I don't know what in the hell is wrong with you, but yer comin' with me." He reached for her, but she tried to shy away as she asked:

"And where am I going with you too?"

"Jest hush and follow me." Abby did as she was bid and found Hank bringing her into the kitchen where Jake was sitting, drinking whiskey as he sang drunkenly. "I need help bringing him back. It's too late for you to get another customer and the rest of the girls are all occupied." Abby pulled away from his grip, looking at him like he was the biggest idiot alive.

"Hank, I don't even have a proper outfit on. I'm in a shift." He laughed and pulled off his jacket.

"Jest put this on, it ain't like its daylight, no one's gonna be able to tell anyways." Abby did as she requested and helped Hank get Jake up on his feet and between the two of them were able to get Jake back to the barber shop and up the old stairs. Jake and Hank had taken to singing a bawdy drinking tune, and were humming where they no longer knew the words and excessively high pitch. Getting Jake into bed, he copped a feel at Abby's bum, the action quick and surprising as she jumped away but Hank grabbed her and swung her around to face him:

"That ain't no way to treat Jake, he's one of my best customers. Jesus who the fuck do you think you are? Jest because I asked a favor of ya don't mean you ain't still a whore." Hank's voice was abnormally loud and Abby could smell drink bated on his breath. "I got a mind to smack some sense into you, but I think something else would do the trick. Give Jake a free fuck." Abby's eyes widened at Hank's lewd suggestion.

"You asked me to help you bring him home, you never said I'—." Hank interrupted rudely, laughing roughly. Jake, still intoxicated, sat up and began mooing. Any other situation and Abby might have been able to find this humorous.

"And now I'm telling you to get these clothes off, get in that bed and give that man exactly what he needs. He's a good friend of mine, and I take care of my good friends, you're my whore so you'll do exactly what in the hell I tell you to do." Abby cringed outwardly but said nothing as Hank pulled his coat off of her. "And your shift Abigail." Abby cursed him out loud, but Hank threatened to smack her and she stripped the cotton cloth off, a wicked smile across his face. "Now git. I better have a happy customer at the end of this; don't bother coming back until day break at least."

Hank shoved her towards the bed, satisfied with his handiwork and left Abby to Jake who had by now become taken by the sight of a beautiful _and _naked whore in front of him. He patted the bed as Abby crawled in beside him, Jake's breath smelt like pure whiskey as he pulled her under him, fumbling to get his pants off, once he was successful, Abby closed her eyes to the situation as he thrusted away. Once he was finished, he rolled off of her and fell asleep, probably he wouldn't even remember any of this, but Abby knew she would. Abby remained awake, and waited until the sun rose, her hatred for Hank growing by the minute as she replayed the entire night's events over and over in her mind.

Once the sun rose, Jake continued to snore as Abby slipped out of bed and dressed in the cotton shift and ran back to the saloon, wrapping Hank's jacket around her body. Hank was already up in the kitchen, smoking as he greeted her. Furious with him, Abby snapped:

"Don't you ever do that to me again Hank, I mean it! I'd rather you beat me than do what you did to me. That was _low_—even for you." Abby dropped his coat on the floor in front of him and left, running up the stairs to her room where she drank down her powdered water. Stripping off her clothes she viciously scrubbed herself for quite a long while before dressing in a pale pink dress. A knock on her door startled her, but she ignored it until the knocker began to pound and she knew immediately it was Hank. Opening the door she was met by exactly who she had thought it was.

"What? Come to beat me or make me fuck you?" Her calmness seemed eerie even to her.

"Maybe both, later on. No, I came to say fine, I won't do leave you to Jake again like that, that's the best I'll offer you. Now let's go get some breakfast. You look like you haven't eaten in days." Hank was already out the door and heading downstairs as she Abby decided out of gross curiosity to follow, he hadn't promised her what she had wanted to hear, but nor had she expected him to take her rebuttal so well. He led her to Grace's café, a place she had seen in the several months she'd been in town but never actually gone too. They were seated as people stared at the odd pair.

"Hank I don't think this is such a good idea." Abby whispered to him. Hank shook his head with disagreement. "What, why the hell not? I take Birdie and Myra out here with me whenever I damned well please, Jake and Loren'll be meeting us anytime now." Abby only nodded and played with her well worn shawl desperately wishing she could disappear from the moment. Jake was the last person she wanted to see this morning.

"Hank," Grace's voice was clipped until she turned and spoke to the young woman next to him, almost cowering her head lowered as if in solemn thought. "Mornin' honey, what can I git for ya? Ya want coffee?" Grace poured Hank a hot coffee as Abby answered.

"No thank you, jest some water if you don't mind."

"No, not at all, not at all. What would you two like, hot bread and berries or potato cakes?" Hank laughed and ordered for the both of them. "Jest the regular Grace, 'cept I ain't sure about eggs fer her, Abby you like eggs?"

"Uh, yes, sure however you cook them is fine thanks." Abby returned to her reserved reverie as Jake and Loren joined just as Hank had predicted—hoping if Jake remembered last night, he'd have the decency not to bring it up at breakfast. Abby didn't join in their conversation, but instead watched a woman sitting with her three children—it was the one she had bumped into over a month ago outside of Jake's shop. Abby desperately tried to remember the lady's name, she had been kind to her. Jake's booming voice broke Abby's concentration and she turned to the man whose slicked back hair and dark eyes were staring straight at her. The way his eyes danced over her; it made her uncomfortable and wished to God she could disappear.

"What the hell Hank, ain't whores supposed to be used up women, no good to no one, and here you keep on bringing in these pretty youngsters. What you ain't over eighteen are ya?" Abby only shook her head, unsure as to where this conversation was headed. Albeit Jake's creepiness, she still was unsure if he was insinuating to what had occurred in the wee hours of this past morning.

"Nope, Abby hopefully my last young addition one for quite a while, can't handle no more whores under my roof." Hank's arm slid around her shoulders, pulling her towards him as the men laughed and joked about. Abby felt as if there were someone strangling her for air, but before she could die the food had arrived and nimbly she tasted everything, eating very little, wishing she hadn't ended things on such a sour note with Timothy. Yet what other option did a girl in her position hold, pushing him away seemed to be her best choice, however the ache within had not lessened its hold upon her at all since their confrontation. She had to talk to Myra she decided and the sooner the better, as soon as breakfast was over.

Breakfast did not get over though for another hour as the men continued to chat and shoot the bull amongst themselves, not once did Abby add a comment. Nor was she ever able to tell if Jake remembered, and Abby was willing to let bygones be bygones. Finally when Abby had begun to believe she'd be stuck all day at the café, Hank motioned for her to get up and follow him back to the saloon.

Walking without speaking, Abby began to wonder why on earth Hank had even bothered taking her out with him in the first place, but it was not a question she could answer, nor was it a question which she wanted to ask. Once they were back at the saloon, Abby headed for the stairs but Hank pulled her back, anger heavy in his eyes—something she had not noticed previously.

"Alright Abby what in the holy fuck is goin' on with you, and don't waste my time bull shittin' around---you aint yerself today and if you didn't think I wasn't going to take notice then your incredibly stupid. I pulled that little stunt with Jake to get you off your high horse." Abby chose not to argue with him and lied:

"Nothin' Hank I'se jest real tired, a long night, well a lot of long nights lately, mind if I just take a few hours off to catch up on sleep?" Her voice was soft and as steady as she could make it but even she wasn't sure it had convinced Hank. He towered over her, his hair falling in her face; he surprised her when he answered:

"Yeah sure, jest make sure your out on the floor by sundown." Abby nodded and thanked him rushing to find Myra. It didn't take her long to locate Myra in her bedroom resting. Rushing in and locking the door behind her, Abby plunked down on her bed and spilled out the events from last night to this morning regarding Timmy, not once mentioning the incident with Jake and Hank. Myra said nothing until Abby finished speaking.

"Abby, it's what I told you—be careful, it's best for you to jest keep yer distance from him in here or else there is a chance of serious repercussions."

"You're right, of course all I have to do is keep my distance, and it's probably an everyday occurrence for a client to fall for a whore right?"

"Sure Abby, jest as common as it is for that so called whore to fall for the client." Myra's tone was soft and understanding, yet Abby turned looking alarmed.

"I didn't fall for him." Even Abby didn't believe her lie, swallowing she realized her error when she heard herself say 'him,' instead of a given name.

"Abby I ain't gonna run to tell Hank, jest you must be careful. Best to keep your distance completely from him, alright?" Abby sighed, nodding as she spoke.

"Thank you Myra, I'm going to lay down for a bit, I jest have to remember with every night it means one more less I'll be here."

"Of course if you ever need anything else Abby let me know." Abby headed back to her bedroom and fell asleep quickly, her energy sapped from the events in occurring in the last twenty-four hours.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next several weeks Abby saw no sign of Tim, while Ryan was in often. Abby had not slept with him though; he never asked for her or pursued her which suited her just fine. Many men came and went, and Abby did her job all the while lying to herself that she didn't care if she ever saw Timothy Dawson again. But at night when a cowboy beside her was asleep in the quiet of her mind she thought of him and the words he had said, never mentioning any of it to Myra again. Myra thought Abby had put the whole situation out of her mind, but her own life had started to take its own new twists and turns.

Birdie had moved out her shared bedroom with Abby and fully into Hank's as they had become inseparable. Honestly Abby didn't understand it, while Birdie no longer did her fair share of work about the saloon but for the most part it kept Hank off her back so long as she just went about her work. The only news in town was a new doctor who had recently and that doctor was a woman. She was staying at Charlotte Cooper's boarding house while she looked for new lodgings and an office. None of the townsfolk had been giving her much of a chance was the word in the bar and she had also heard this female doctor hadn't been afraid to tangle with Hank or the other townsmen.

Then out of the blue on a Saturday night Tim walked into the Golden Nugget with Ryan and a few other ranch hands from his place. Shocked, Abby unconsciously dropped the shot glasses she had been holding filled with whiskey at the sight of him; it had been almost a month since their last encounter which had ended sourly. Myra ran over to Abby the sound of glasses breaking, unsure why she had made such a scene until she followed Abby's gaze—it led straight to Timothy Dawson.

"Abby pull it together—NOW!" Abby jumped from her trance but ran into her bedroom. Locking the door behind her she curled into the furthest corner of her bed, pulling the quilts up over her head. Abby's heart was racing as she tried to sleep, but soon came a furious pounding upon her door which she knew better than to not answer. Unsurprisingly it was Hank, who was scarlet with rage as he snapped at: "And what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Annoyed, Abby narrowed her eyes and mustered up all the piss and vinegar responding snottily: "Turnin' in, I don't feel so good." Hank laughed cruelly as he blew puff of cigar smoke into her face as he reached for her, pulling her closer to the doorway.

"Well that's a shame toots, tough luck as this young man asked for you specifically." Hank pushed forth a lad who was no older then herself. His greasy hair hung in his eyes which were small, dark and beady, reminding her of those on a rat. Abby shook her head defiantly: "Forget it Hank, I ain't feelin' up to it."

"Like hell you don't!" He spit at her, violently pulling her out with him, down the stairs and into the crowded saloon. Shooting a blank into the air, he caught the patrons' attention as he hollered out: "Gentlemen who would like to spend a lovely evening with my prettiest whore? Highest bidder gets to take her to bed all night long, regardless of who you are and what the previous stipulations were. Let's get the bidding started shall we? And I'll let you all in a little secret she's a damned good fuck."

Humiliated, Abby spit at Hank who just sidestepped it and brutally wrenched her in front of him, tightening his grasp upon her arm so painfully she just assumed it would snap in his hold. Abby searched for Tim, praying maybe he'd outbid those who's drunken and lust filled voices rose, but when her eyes met Myra's behind the bar she saw her shake her head and mouth: "I don't know where he is."

Finally Hank deemed the auction for her body over when one man offered a hundred and fifty dollars for the night with her. An older man, who was rough looking, a black hat hid his eyes, but not the scars on his face. He was heavy set and walked with a slight hobble. Abby pondered for a moment that if she begged Hank, he'd release her from the binding agreement with this man, but knew he'd only make a further fool out of her. The man was sweaty and heavily intoxicated, in fact Abby remembered serving him at the bar earlier. His hands cupped her breasts as he licked her face. Abby's stomach felt like it might revolt as she glared at Hank as he pushed her into the stranger's arms who whispered into her ears the dark deeds he desired.

"Take me to your bedroom little darlin', I'm gonna make a woman out of you tonight, several times over." Abby cringed and obediently led him up the stairs until they reached her room, he pushed her inward. Slamming the door shut behind them the stranger at once grabbed her by her arms and pushed her down to her knees.

"You better get it right the first time or else we'll be here all night doing this and there is plenty more I'd rather be doing to you and with you." His hands reached for his pants, as he simultaneously pushed Abby's face towards his crotch.

Reeling and choking on bile Abby fell backwards, shaking her head no, she swore: "You sick fuck, you can force me to sleep with you, but I sure as hell am not putting your little pisser in my mouth."

"Why you little bitch!" He roared as he slapped her upside the head, forcing her to fall backwards, her head reeling as she put a hand to her mouth and pulled it away to reveal blood. Reaching down he pulled Abby up by her hair and whipped out a knife.

"I'll cut you deep if you don't have it in your mouth by the time I count to ten." Abby stumbled to stand up and out of his grip as she shouted: "Hell no!" Abby tried to side step him so he could get by him and run to Hank. The man grabbed the back of her dress and pulled Abby into his arms, slicing his knife across her side. In shock Abby froze, she felt her draw dropping but she could not scream until finally her shaking hand touched her side and as she pulled it away the blood dripped onto the floor. Reaching her hand back to her side, the blood felt warm and gooey to the touch.

Abby was by now too dizzy to feel dire fear, but somehow found her voice and screamed twice more before the man slapped her. Myra burst in with Hank right on her heels as he berated her: "What the fuck Abby, you know you owe this man a night after all the money he paid!"

"No----nnooo!" Abby screamed at him as the stranger evacuated amidst all of the yelling. Hank sick to death of dealing with whores and their poor dispositions, pushed Myra out the door, told her to go find that no good sonuvabitch, give him what he wanted and report back to him after. Slamming the door behind her, Hank grabbed Abby tightly in his arms and pulled her dress up, his hands frisking her.

"Owww—Jesus you're hurting me, let me the fuck go Hank!" Abby screamed, sounding more like a wounded animal crying. Hank shook her over and over, yelling: "No Abby, what the hell did you do to him? You fuckin' owe me!"

"ME?! Are you kidding me? Are you even fuckin' kidding me? You sell me to that bastard for enough money to count as a year and half on my contract but we both know all you'll be crediting me is a few dollars at best. And then the sick bastard tells me to suck it, and fuck it. So I have to fuck it, but nowhere in my contract does it say I have to suck it! And then he stabs me deep enough I'm bleeding and yet instead of sticking up for me as my boss you should, you're bitchin' at me and tellin' me I'm no good! I ain't fought you once on anything, I ain't and you know it and that includes that night you tossed me into Jake's bed! I had no say in this deal, if it were my way I'd still be tailing my dead beat father around the country as he tried to get rich quick! No it'd never fucking happen so one night I get sold to a barkeep in Colorado Springs who I willingly let take my virginity the same night because his head whore suggests it! Hank I have done everything you've asked of me, please—. "

Abby cut herself off, unable to breathe, she felt as if she were shutting down internally as she began to reach out to Hank, her body collapsing as she was caught midair by him and was pulled up into his arms. But while she said no more, her face said it all; she gave him a look, charging him: _You told me I could trust you_!

The pounding on Dr. Quinn's door woke her from a fretful sleep, jumping up and pulling on her robe, she opened her door to the ornery barkeep who had so far always defied her, even while Myra had been very open to her medical assistance. Yet it was not Myra whom Hank held limply in his arms. It was another girl who Michaela had seen once from afar but never spoken too. The girl seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness before her.

"Why Mr. Lawson, what do I owe this honor too over Mr. Slicker?" Dr. Mike knew her voice was clipped but the disrespect she had repeatedly received from Hank pushed her too her brink of tolerance.

"Jake's drunk off his ass, listen Michaela she was just stabbed, and I think she's in a lot of pain."

"I am in a lot of pain..." a small voice creaked out from the girl resting her head gingerly on Hank's shoulder.

"Alright set her down on my surgery table and try to be gentle. I'll need you to wait outside of the room however." Hank set Abby down gingerly who gave him no recognition either way, not bothering to thank him; Abby considered what occurred tonight—completely Hank's fault. Abby did not cry out, albeit the pain shooting through her side, her pink dress was completely blood stained about her middle.

Michaela washed her hands and rolled up her sleeve, setting her doctor's bag onto the bed next to the young woman.

"I'm Michaela Quinn, but feel free to call me Dr. Mike, I'm sorry but I'll need need to peel off your top half of your dress to see the extent of your wound. Please try to relax; I'll try to make this as painless as I can, just try to stay calm, you have lost a fair bit of blood it seems. Please let me know if I hurt you."'

Abby only nodded and slipped off the top of her dress, and pulled up her shift, just above the slash. Michaela sucked her breath in as she cleaned and inspected it unbelieving someone could do this to anyone, let alone a young woman regardless of profession.

"What's your name?" Abby looked up at the woman doctor, seeing doubles of her suddenly.

"Her name?"

"No your name, I'm Dr. Mike remember?" Abby's head swirled as she tried to nod, trying to remember how to say who she was.

"Abigail, but jest call me Abby." Her tone was labored as her eyes fluttered. Michaela watched her closely worried she would pass out on her as she tried another tactic to keep Abby speaking.

"Well Abby, I've cleaned your wound out but I have to sew it shut, can you tell me what happened to you?"

"Uhm yeah...I'll try..." As Abby relayed her story to Michaela in lengthy pauses, trying hard to remember the night's events against the pain burning in her slashed side, she horrified the doctor who kept her opinions to herself as she listened. Abby finished by asking for water, her face deathly pale, and her face was sunken in about her cheek bones.

"Yes of course, I'm going to mix a little of this powder within, it's to help with the pain." Abby only nodded and drank the liquid quickly, she tried to sit up but her strength was fully sapped, Dr. Mike helped Abby off of the bed and with her entire weight leaning against Michaela made it upstairs into a small, quiet and clean room. The bed had several warming quilts layered over Abby's body as she quickly fell into a deep sleep, barely hearing Dr. Mike's last words to her.

"You need to rest, here stay in my bed tonight, I'll deal with Hank." Abby said nothing and was asleep before Michaela made it down the stairs to keep up her end of the bargain of dealing with Hank. Charlotte was sitting up with him; they were enjoying a piece of pie each. Mike adored Charlotte, they had quickly become very close friends, closer then she was with her own sisters back in Boston, but she did not have the same compassion for everyone which Charlotte held.

"Hank, I had to sew up Abby's wound, she's sleeping now, I gave her something for the pain, but her wound needs to be kept clean to heal correctly, you're lucky he didn't puncture her lung. I'm ashamed of how you take care of these girls especially her. She can't be any older then seventeen at the most, if she works within the next two weeks she could easily reopen that wound and you will have a girl on your hands who very easily could hurt herself worse or bleed to death." Hank glared at her until she finished and then spoke.

"Abby and I have a special contract, she ain't gonna be able to take off two weeks, I can't allow it, it'd be too big of a loss to me financially." Michaela snickered at his absurdity; if he wanted her to work he ought to realize that if she died she'd make him no revenue.

"Hank if she were to work within the next forty-eight hours it is very possible she will bleed to death. At the very earliest if you refuse to give her two weeks, she must have at least a week...and her bandages will have to be checked by me daily. Hank I'm not kidding, the knife wound Abby received is incredibly deep and has a great chance to opening back up. Besides that she looks exhausted, does she ever have a night off just to sleep? More than a few hours between men?" Hank ignored her quip, responding.

"Fine Michaela, fine, but she ain't gettin' two weeks, send her over in the morning if you don't mind, I'm sure she can use her own two feet. Night Charlotte thanks for the pie." And with that Hank was gone leaving Dr. Mike bristling with anger as Charlotte tried to calm her down.

"Michaela she's his property legally, you're lucky to get him to agree to a week, he works those girls hard."

"But Charlotte you don't understand she's sixteen, she's so young, she should if anything just be getting married to a decent young man. His girls are going to start dying on him if he doesn't watch out. I get so frustrated with the men in this town, especially Hank, but thank God Jake was drunk otherwise I doubt that girl would have survived under his hand."

Abby was greeted warmly by all of the girls; even Hank was kind, telling her he had decided to give her a week off, but would keep the nights on the books as if she had worked. It was kind of him, but all the free time only allowed her mind to slip often to Timothy. Myra spent much time with Abby talking, sitting, singing, or just being there.

Two nights before Abby had to return to work Myra rushed in her room letting her know Timothy had been in the saloon momentarily, but left just as quick as he had come. Abby sighed and dismissed Myra on account of being tired. Her side did ache but Dr. Mike had been kind enough to check on her daily and change her bandages. But it took Abby a long while to fall asleep that night, longing for Timothy to sneak in her room to see her, he could just use her for all she cared but he had kept to his word—a man of his word.

The next morning after Abby returned from Dr. Mike's, Myra was waiting for her in her room. Startling Abby who did not notice Myra sitting on the vanity until she plopped onto her own bed: "Myra! What's wrong, are you okay?"

"Abby I can't stand to see you moping about so...you don't have to come back to work until tomorrow, so Hank wouldn't notice you were gone anytime soon. So---"

"Myra do you mind tellin' me what yer cookin' up?" Myra's face held a sly grin.

"Listen I know I told you to put this guy out of your head, but it seems to only push him further into your mind, so go see him, his family ranch is about three miles from town, but you can easily borrow a horse from the stables. Go see him, walk if you think more time will help clear your head before you get to meet him."

"Myra I can't go waltzing out there, he's most likely working in the midst of the day, and after the way things ended I highly doubt he wants to see me."

"Oh, but you ain't gonna know unless you try Abby! You owe it to yerself; if anything else it may give you peace of mind." Abby pondered this over momentarily, and with a bright smile, grabbed her shawl from the bed, wrapped it about her slender form and gave Myra a hug, sneaking out the back way of the bar.

Deciding the walk would do her good; Abby didn't waste time on sneaking to the stables, her pace was very quick until she reached the outer perimeters of town and followed the well beaten path of a road. But not ten minutes further into her walk was she met by the sounds of a wagon coming up behind her. Abby's nerves tensed, terrified she was about to be discovered as the wagon slowed up aside of her, until the pace of the driver had slowed the horses to match her. Abby bit her tongue and looked up into Ryan's smiling face. Immediately a look of reorganization floated over his suntanned features as he stopped completely.

"Abby? I'm surprised to see you out here on the road. Where you headed? I could give you a lift?" Abby paused before answering, she was headed to the very place he was.

"I, well, I was going to see Tim, I wanted to try to explain things out. I—." Ryan got out of the wagon and rounded over to her, holding a hand out. "Here let me help you up, you're headed my way and I'd love to give you a ride if you don't mind the old dirty wagon." Abby watched his face, nothing came for free, would he expect something for his trouble? Ryan Hanson had never tried to bed her before, in fact they were friendly with each other but not overtly. He read her face and continued: "I'm not expecting anything from you Abby. I might sleep with whores at the saloon, but we aren't at the saloon, I'm not a patron and you aren't a whore. So let me help you up, Timmy will be glad to see you. It's just lucky for you and me both that today was the time to get some supplies in town at Bray's." He continued chattering as he helped Abby into the wagon, got her situated and continued on back towards the Dawson Ranch. Abby had never realized how chatty Ryan was, she had heard Myra make mention of it before but never truly paid any attention to it. But the man could talk a blue streak, and still didn't seem to tire.

Fear crept into Abby's soul, as cold sweat began to prickle its way down her neck and back. But she had come this far, she wasn't going to turn away without at least seeing him, even if he treated her wickedly and sent her away. From Ryan on the ride she had learned they took care of Timothy's father's original ranch, he now owned another huge one in California where he grew grapes to make into wine. The boys had taken on the charge of running the Colorado Springs ranch. Abby tried to be polite, but her mind just continually wandered. They came to a stop when Ryan pointed out a lone figure off towards the direction of the house.

"That'll most likely be him. Want me to let you out now?" Abby thanked Ryan for the ride as she stepped down and began to make her way towards where the figure had been that seemed to have disappeared from her vision, but she moved forward anyways.

Cattle were lowing about the open land as Abby picked her footing carefully about cow pies heading towards the direction the figure was. Several more feet and she saw the house rising up. It was the largest singular ranch house she had ever seen, surrounding by the outer buildings, continuing towards it Abby stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a chuckle behind her. Turning with fear in her throat, she heard a voice speak as it transitioned from casual to dead seriousness.

"A bit lost out here lady? Oh my god Abby!" Timothy was on a handsome stead staring down at her, as she stepped slowly backwards. No sooner had she taken a few steps than he was off his horse heading for her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I—I...I came to see you Timmy." Stopping dead in his tracks he looked about.

"Did you walk all the way out here?" Abby closed her eyes and explained how she had arrived, wishing and wondering why in the hell she had listened to Myra. She opened them, when she felt his palm lingering lightly on her cheek. "But why Abby? You made it clear you--."

"Tim, I know I'm just a whore and ain't more than that, but I of any one had no right to bid you whom you could and could not take." Tim looked about the open range closing up when it met the woods and then the desert further away.

"Abby since that night I have wished that I had never walked in Hank's saloon and met you. I wish I had never drank so much that first night that I probably hurt you, and I regret every time I have ever walked in since then and just left you alone in the morning after using your body. Abby I am ashamed of how I have behaved towards you, and if I could take it all back I would, I long just to know you, just to be around you and have you in my life even if it is for a few precious moments here and there. I'm a stupid guy who doesn't seem to think sensibly often enough when it comes to women. I wish I had met you somewhere else in life and had already made you my wife. Somewhere along the way Abby I fell out of lust and in love with you, and I don't know how to think I can even try to ask your forgiveness for taking advantage of you ever but I'm trying and I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Abby cupped his face in her lithe hands and spoke, tears glimmering in her eye,"Tim, I am nothing but a whore, and that is the life I must live for the next five years, you owe me no apology, least of all me, I am not worth even the thought. I came to apologize, not to try and make you feel guilty. I--."

"Abby, nothing but a whore? You are so much more then what a title would hold, you aren't there on your own free will, you got the shit end of a deal you had nothing to do with, and I took easy grasp of it. I'm not good with this stuff, heavy words, but please let me apologize, and please consider accepting it."

Abby nodded and felt tears sliding down her cheeks as Timothy wrapped his arms about her, he smelt sweaty and musky. Abby clutched at him, wishing she could have too met him in another place of life.

"I forgive you Timmy." Her eyes were closed as his lips gingerly pulled at hers before pulling her tightly into his arms once more.

"Abby thank you, I promise I'll never touch you again until I can marry you if you'd have me after that." Abby pulled away startled.

"Tim, we both know that's impossible, Hank would never allow it and neither would your parents."

"I don't care, my father is of little concern, my mother is dead, Hank is our only problem, I'd take you away to Texas where we could start over and you'd be Abby, my little wife who's never had anyone in her life but I and I never fucked things up so wretchedly." Abby didn't speak, quite a while until she asked the question that had been plaguing her constantly. "Tim, why when any other woman would openly take you for a husband?"

"You captured me fully Abigail Lily. Come up to the house, I'm starving, are you hungry? C'mon love," he grasped his rugged hand about hers as she squeezed his hand tightly before releasing, "We'll work it out Abby, we will."

They began a slow decent to the ranch house, her heart beating heavily and emotions soaring high.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Abby shuffled in through the back door of the saloon, willing it that no one would notice her return, almost as much as she willed no one—especially Hank would not have noticed her absence. It was after midnight and the smell of Timmy still drenched her nostrils, she swallowed nervously as she made her way towards the back set of stairs. She dreaded the return to the saloon, knowing full well she'd have to start whoring again tomorrow. The saloon was a dank place after her freeing afternoon at Tim's ranch, a life she had never known, and most likely would not regardless of what Tim tried to say. 

They'd spent the afternoon riding his horse together, over the property, because Abby had wanted to see the openness of the land. She had seen breathtaking views of the Rockies, cattle lowing about, cow hands tending to matters of the ranch, and the horses—they'd been her favorite part, they were the most beautiful creatures she honestly believed. After several hours outside, only a few words spoken, Abby lay back contented in Timmy's arms and let him guide them back towards the ranch house after watching the sunset disappear into twilight.

It had been a small dinner, it was later then usual, and they had missed the noon meal earlier in the day. Abby had been introduced to Mammy, an ex-black slave, given her freedom by Timothy's late mother after his father had bought her as a wedding gift. The late Mrs. Dawson had been born and bred a Southern aristocrat but had taken to abolitionist ideals after her father freed all of his own slaves and paid them for waged labor. Mammy was a big old broad the color of pure milk chocolate, with a ringing laugh and nothing but kindness in her eyes for Abby.

Abby's only encounters with blacks had been negative, her father an admitted negro hater—stating that with the end of the Civil War the poor white man no longer had a chance. But then again this was the man who had sold his daughter willingly into prostitution. Yet Mammy had been good to her, kind, overlooking the fact she was a whore. Timmy had apparently spilled everything out to Mammy, weeks earlier with their last parting. Abby sighed with content as the day's events flooded into her memory forever. Her momentary peace on earth was murdered quickly by the rough voice of Hank. He stood over her, having seemingly to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Abby, so nice of you to grace us with yer presence this evenin', where the hell you been?" His voice held anger, and his face showed a look filled with utter irritation--he was less then amused. Her mind raced for an answer, yet gave her no legible excuse.

"I see you're rather awake eh? Good then you can start work a night early, go get changed out of that ungodly outfit, ain't no customer gonna be bitin' if all you cover everything up."

"But Hank you said I had a full week off." Her voice warbled out; afraid he could read her mind.

"Oh so you can talk huh? Good, put that voice to good use bringin' in customers. Git up there and change. My decision is final Abby." He snapped and sauntered away, Abby saw as she began upstairs, he stopped when he looked just out of her vision and pulled Birdie out of an alcove, thrusting her skirts up. Abby looked away in disgust and went up to change, unhappy with the change of events. Although if Hank weren't so preoccupied at the moment with Birdie, he might still be grilling her about her missing whereabouts this evening. Pulling off the dusty grey dress, she slid into the same pink dress she had been wearing exactly a week ago, the blood was cleaned off and the dress had been mended completely. Her heart sunk and she swept her hair up, her side still tender to any touch.

A knock on her door startled her, and she opened it, expecting to find Hank. Instead a handsome young man stood leaning in her doorway. Abby smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she could slip into something more comfortable now, and her evening would be relaxed—she'd have to thank Myra tomorrow.

"Well aren't you going to invite me in? I did pay for an entire evening." His grin was sweet, as he wrangled her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him. Pulling her towards the bed, Abby's heart lurched and she felt prickles on her spine. He had promised not to take her to bed any longer, not until he could marry her, he'd apologized. He was sending her mixed messages; his words and actions did not seem to match up. But at that point, he just collapsed on her bed, pulling her down with him, holding her near, but did not advance any further, as if he had read her mind.

After just laying there for a bit, Abby sat up, Timmy was quietly watching her, his face warm from the sunlight, but he looked tired.

"Should we just go to sleep?" He smiled slightly and replied.

"If you don't mind, I mean I have been putting in a lot of hours at the ranch lately."

"Will you stay until the morning?" Abby twisted his shirt in her hands, sitting above him, a slight frown on her face. Tim sat up, positioning himself face to face with her, and gave a little laugh.

"I did pay for the evening Abs. I'd like to think I'm getting my money's worth." He pulled his shirt off, and laid back down. "You might want to change into something more sleepable." His eyes closed, Abby obeyed and slipped into a slightly tattered slip night dress that was bare where her back was concerned. She crawled into bed, and curled close to Timmy, allowing him to pull her closer, and kissing her gently on the top of her forehead as they both drifted to sleep. Many hours later, a perturbed Hank, who was gravely irritated with Abby for missing in action all day long, without a single person knowing of her whereabouts, checked her room to make sure she had a satisfied customer after not seeing her once on the floor all evening.

Opening her door with little regard to being heard, Hank saw Abby sleeping contently, next to what appeared to be a satisfied customer, his arm wrapped around her. Smiling to himself, and inwardly congratulating how wonderfully he ran his business, he shut the door quietly. Turning, he found a pair of arms linking their way around his middle, knowing they belonged to Birdie; he pulled her in, the inky darkness enveloping them as he pulled her towards his bedroom. That night, everyone was left satisfied.

Abby awoke alone the next morning, not surprised she pulled herself out of bed, the sun high and bright. She dressed quickly in a new hand me down from Birdie which was olive green in coloring and fair with her complexion. She left her hair half down, and headed down to find something to eat in the kitchen. She was surprised at how quiet the saloon was for how late in the day it seemed to be. She found no one milling about and prepared herself a small late breakfast of apple slices and bread with butter. Helping herself greedily to a large glass of cool water, she went out back of the saloon and sat on the steps, facing towards the edge of town. She could only hear what was occurring in town, but no one could see her. Savoring the bites of food, she didn't hear someone come out behind her, and only when they sat down did she notice, albeit startled.

"Jesume Hank, do ya ever let someone know your lurkin' about?" She felt nervous, unsure of his mood, she couldn't read him to register how she should behave. He didn't speak, flinging his hair out of his face and turning to face Abby.

"Where was ya yesterday Abby an' don't lie ta me, I knows you was gone near all day." Her stomach began to ache, and she turned away, embarrassed he already knew the truth.

"Look at me so I knows ya ain't lyin' when ya speak." Abby obeyed, lifting her head to face him, her eyes wild with worry.

"I don't think ya wanna know."

"I think I do!" His tone was testy, and she knew she was already crossing the thin line he allowed any of his girls to push. Abby felt tears forming at the corner of her eyes, stinging and burning her, a sick feeling wretched through her body. A lie formed in her mind's eye, unsure Hank would buy it she dropped her apple slice and held her hands, so he would not see them shaking.

"I went for a walk to see the creek, I've never seen it since I came…I thought it was such a lovely spot I laid down and fell asleep 'til nightfall. I had a hard time makin' my way back, I wasn't lost but I wasn't sure where I was goin.'" She kept her gaze steady with his eyes, cold blue that spent nothing on emotion except when they were angered. She couldn't tell if he bought her lie, but he made no motion of ignoring it either. Hank had seen her hands trembling out of the corner of his eye, but he saw her stare him straight in the eye. Perhaps it was not because she was lying, so much as she knew he was angry with her.

"You'se gonna have to work double time to make up for your last week. Starting today no more days off 'til I tell you differently." Abby grimaced at his words and her smile was lost, replaced by a grimly set frustrated look. "Ya hear me Abby?"

"Yes Hank I hear ya, I best go get started then." She scooped up the remainder of her food and headed back in, heart sunk, the rest of her horizon looking grim. Hank let her pass, knowing he'd ruined her day, but also knowing her little accident had cost him several weeks worth of pay. Abby was a pretty girl, and if someone with a lot of money like Timmy was going to personally request her, then he was going to whore her as often as possible, to whomever would pay for her. He thought of upping her price if such events continued, but at the same time he knew he could only take so much advantage of her. And the advantage he would be taking of her would be financially only; his days of messing around were over so long as he had Birdie warming his bed.

Abby's day fortunately was as slow as the saloon was, no one claimed her and she worked only behind the bar serving drinks. Hank's eagle eye was constantly watching her, waiting for a complaint, or try to run away from the bar, best she stayed at her duties steadfast. By early evening the saloon began to pick up as customers slowly began drizzling in like the rain outside. By mid-evening the place was jammed, and soon Abby was sent to entertain. Two men later, she scrubbed at her body until she was raw between her legs. She drank two cups of stale powdered water and crawled into bed, late, alone and longed for Timmy. It was as she drifted off to sleep she realized her side ached a bit, but from that evening she assumed it was only natural.

The next morning she awoke early, surprised to see Myra in her room, waiting for her to awake she assumed. Stretching she found her side ached more then usual, or at least more then last night.

"Myra are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just didn't get a chance ta ask ya how things went the other day?"

"Oh I meant to thank you for the other night, I'm sorry. Hank's pissed at me, so I haven't had really much of any kind of free time."

"It's okay—he seemed like he'd leave if I didn't guarantee you for the night, then again you are the only thing here he is interested in."

"I know, and I truly enjoy it, he's so good to me. But I can't help but think its wrong of me in someway to let him love me, and want to take care of me, when I can't even help myself. I can't even promise myself to him for four more years.

Myra only nodded, smiling she turned towards the window and said in a low voice.

"I found someone who loves me too." Abby wasn't sure if she had heard Myra correctly, walking over she placed herself against the dingy wall and cocking her head, asked Myra to repeat what she thought she had just heard.

"Who is he?" Abby asked astonished Myra would break her own rules.

"He ain't a customer, well he's been buying up some of my time, but he ain't usin' me Abby, he's in love with me."

"And you?"

"Oh," Myra turned to face her, "I love him dearly too. But I ain't used to havin' anyone care 'bout me. Sure Hank does to an extent but it ain't the same. Hank owns us, he ain't ownin' me and yet he still loves me."

The door opened with a bang and both girls jumped at the sight of Hank, whose usual scowl did nothing to alarm them of what he wanted.

"Abby git out." His voice was frightening to her ears, and although it was her bedroom she did as she was told. Unsure what was going—unless Hank knew more then Myra had let on, Abby walked downstairs to the kitchen and fixed herself a small breakfast. Wishing the healing wound would settle down some, she sat outside like the day before on the back porch, soaking up the morning sun. She longed for Timmy, but knew while her heart was beyond being realistic any longer; she could hope her head would stay centered.

Abby lost track of time, lost in her thoughts, it was not until Birdie came to the back of the door and asked her to come help tend the bar while it had picked up in the lunch hour, she realized how long she'd been alone with her thoughts. Abby was surprised no one had been sent to fetch her earlier, or Hank had not angrily demanded her attention to work or what not. She did not have to whore that afternoon, just worked a fairly steady bar, as the regulars played poker and two men asked for specifically Star and Britney.

As the day wore on Abby felt achy all over and wished with all her might the night would be devastatingly slow. Her appetite gone she cleaned shot glasses in the kitchen, made the night's stew for the girls and Hank—who barely spoke to anyone that day it seemed. He was not in a bad mood, but his unchatty self was very unusual and made her a bit on edge. Myra refused to divulge the details of what had been spoken of that morning. The stew was good the girls told her, and even Hank made a comment on the flavor. Abby sipped a bit of tea to help ease the pain; it did not seem to be helping an excessive amount. The warm liquid did make her sleepy and she longed to crawl up in bed, but instead began the dishes as she heard the saloon noises becoming louder and louder.

No one was sent for her and she had little desire to work the floor or even behind the bar for that matter. Abby felt a bit light headed and her side ached worse, she headed upstairs to change into a looser dress. Pulling off the green garment she examined her side in the mirror, what she saw scared her, but more scared of Hank's anger she knew she must wait to see Dr. Mike tomorrow. The slash flesh puckered against the stitches, sections of her flesh traced dark red, and a puss oozed slightly on the top layer. Abby grabbed a clean cloth and tried as best as she could to clean up the wound so it would not hamper business unless necessary. Pulling on the pink dress which was a bit looser on her, and did not seem to hug at her wound quite so bitterly she headed back down the stairs. Working the bar she knew she eventually would have to entertain, and she was right. Hank pulled her away from the bar and told her a man was already waiting for her in her room, he had asked for her by name—apparently had heard about her through the grapevine he said with a snicker.

She took the stairs slowly; the darkness of the saloon seemed worse then usual, as she gripped the staircase as tightly as she could. Abby wondered who had asked for her, she had not seen Timmy, so she assumed it most likely was not him—but maybe. Upon reaching her door, she creaked it open and let out a slight disappointing sight. It was a man she had never seen before, as young as Timmy, but no where near as handsome. His hair was longish and ratty, his clothing was not clean and his gaze made her uncomfortable. She shut the door behind her with a shutter, afraid to go closer. He stood up off of her bed and walked towards her, the gleam in his eye bothered her greatly.

"I've been waiting damned long time, what took you so long ya hussy?" His voice bristled in jest, but it settled sickly in Abby's ear. The hair on her skin stood up as he brushed a finger up and down her front, resting it on her chest, his hand groped her as she felt her muscles tightening. He began to pull off his belt, and letting his pants drop pulled her towards her bed. His fingers groping at her breasts, his hot breath on her neck, her dress feeling like next to nothing for covering, he pulled her on top of him on the corner of her bed.

Abby's side ached when we tried pulling off her dress without waiting for her to undo the buttons, in haste he told her to forget it and slid one hand down the front of her dress, squeezing the fleshy button, and another flying up her inner thighs, reaching her undergarments, he pulled at them, and in a fleeting motion of pain connected them together, hoisting himself on top of her. Her body screamed out for release from the pain it was feeling littered about it. Her moans were not of pleasure as he took them to be, but of angst and pain, praying for the end to come soon. His breath was heavier, and Abby believed he'd soon finish, when he reached down and tried to kiss her. Turning her head away as she did from all the men—kissing was to intimate, and all the intimacy she shared with Timmy.

Instead of being rejected and just kissing her cheek or neck, this awful creature grabbed her head with both hands and tried to force a kiss upon her. Angered she refused him twice, he pulled out and threw her on the floor. Standing above her with a terrifying look in his eyes, he pulled her by the hair to his member. Inches away from a manhood red, and slimy she knew immediately what he had in mind to force on her. He was still unfinished and angry with her, swearing above her at her, her mind barely registered his voice. When she refused him, he yanked her up by her hair, gripping her around her sides with his arms in death lock of a stronghold. Crying out in pain, he shoved her against a wall and reinserted himself and began again as she cried out. He continuously thrusted within her, banging her body against the clapboard wall violently as she crumpled in his arms, the pain to much she felt herself give into the struggle as his warmth spread in her.

Dropping her like a bag of potatoes onto the ground she felt tears forming in her eyes as he pulled her towards him, sitting on the floor. Pulling her shaking form onto his body she cried out in disagreement when his lewd suggestion came. Forcing her himself, face down she cried in desperation as he tried to reenter her. Thanks be to Jesus, her mind reeled when Hank came a pulled him off of her. Abby didn't dare guess how he knew to come, or even guess what his intentions of parting such a liaison came from.

"You paid for her once, not twice mister, git out now!" Abby felt the tears come, her side ached worse and she thought she might die if only pushed a bit further.

"Fuckin' whore—ain't worth the spare change."

"Abby I think you best go to my office." Hank's tone was one of dire unamusement she had heard times before when he was irritated at any of the girls, and she willingly obeyed. Walking downstairs she caught the eye of that creep and the motion he made as her sent her into hysterics. Myra having been the one to alert Hank of the abuse occurring with Abby, rushed her into the office.

Shaking, sobbing, snot running down her face as well as sputter and wild hair flailing about Abby awaited Hank's punishment, when he finally came in Myra had not been able to calm her down. Never sure how to handle what he called; "irrational whores", Hank slapped Abby across the face. Her bottom lip still quivering she looked at Hank with terror in her eyes and swallowed back her emotion. Myra took a silent cue and departed.

"Abby what in the hell am I gonna do with you? You ain't been nothin' but trouble as of late, tell ya what, I'll let you work the bar for the rest of the night if ya ain't any more trouble." Hank commanded.

Shaking slightly from pain or mindlessness or perhaps a combination of both Abby only nodded and got up to leave, but Hank stood in the doorway in a manner which informed her he was not finished with her.

"Didja hear Abby?"

"Yeeee—ss Hank. I'm just going to work the bar." He only nodded and let her pass. The bar was busy, and while men leered at her, she simply ignored them and served drinks. She felt worse and worse as the night crawled slowly into morning. But as the bar was only just starting to clear out, she headed to the backroom to pick up a crateful of cleaned shot glasses as there were none that were clean left behind the counter. As she headed back towards the bar, the pain in her side grew unbearable, tripping she fell on her knees, gasping for breath, dropping the entire crate. As the glass shattered, flying everywhere Abby clutched her side, and all customers eyes turned towards her. Ashamed, she tried to gather the pieces about her, despite the stabbing pangs littering her side. She saw his shadow before she heard his angered voice, looking up at Hank, Abby could not blink away the tears in her eyes.

"Abby what in the hell have you done?"

"Hank, I am so sorry, I am—I'll pay you for them, I tripped." Her voice warbled threatening to deny her any dignity and turn her into the blubbering baby she felt like. Hank saw the tears clinging in her eyes, she tried to blink them away with little avail, and he felt pity on her. It'd been a rough night, and she looked like she wasn't feeling the best, as she was a little pale. He bent down and took the glass shards from her hands, and spoke.

"It's alright, we'll worry about the damages later, go on and head to bed, go on." Abby at first only stared at him, but decided to obey him before he could change his mind. She wiped off her skirt of any remaining glass shards and headed towards the stairs, only nodding when Hank told her to be ready to work a full night tomorrow night starting early. Climbing the stairs she willed her side to stop aching, and when peeling her dress off once in her room was met by a dismaying sight—her side was oozing and her dress was damp from it. Unsure what to do, she wiped it again and pulled a night gown over her body, cold again and quickly was fast asleep._  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews AND I am glad you are enjoying the story still after a super-long hiatus! **

Abby's sleep was heavy and fogged by crazed dreams and a never ending pain, as she fell in and out of her consciousness, her fever spiked and she shook, restless but heavily out of it. No one bothered her throughout the morning or day as she kept trying to motivate herself to go see Dr. Quinn, but instead she stayed asleep in bed, waking only to take a sip of warm water and pat down her sweaty brow. Day turning into night and Abby felt worse, she was drenched in sweat and yet could not stop shivering and her teeth from chattering. When Abby pulled herself out of bed to squat over the chamber pot, she felt as if her legs would collapse, pulling herself back into bed as the day was slowing turning to twilight her side was aflame with pain, so badly she thought at first she might throw up. She knew she had to get up and get ready for the night down below, but she did not have the effort. Waiting until her labored breath calmed itself; she fell out of bed and pulled on her pink dress from last night. Her side looked worse, it was bright red and puckering, the weepiness had not died down even after she had cleaned it the night before. Her head spun and her stomach revolted, Abby shrank on the floor in hopes all would pass, after several minutes it did.

Unable to button up the back of her dress, cold she carelessly climbed into her bed. Abby told herself she would only lie down for five minutes, pulling the quilts around her to try and get warmer. It took a while for Hank to realize Abby still had not come downstairs to start working. It was dark and she was supposed to have started early this evening. Abby knew she was late, but her body was sluggish and the harder she tried to move the less her body agreed to move, eventually she gave up and fell back to sleep.

Two hours later Birdie came up on Hank's orders to get Abby moving, how he hadn't noticed her missing before she didn't know. She found Abby in bed of all places and tried to rouse her, shaking her, the younger whore awoke with a slight screech drenched in pain.

"Abby, Hank ain't mad yet, but he's kinda irritated you ain't been down there workin'. I ain't gonna tell him you been up here sleepin', but get movin' okay?" Abby nodded groggily, trying to form coherence at what had been just said, her body twisted in pain. She slowly pulled herself out of bed and splashing water on her face, cringed in pain as she buttoned up the back of her dress. Her forehead was drastically warmer then earlier and yet all she felt like was ice. Birdie has left her alone and she looked back towards her bed, knowing she had to get moving, but instead sat down for a moment and before she knew it was back under her covers, wrapped up against the chill.

"Birdie! Where the fuck is she!" Hank roared over the noise of the crowded saloon, he had sent her over a half an hour ago to find Abby, and rouse her downstairs. He knew she wasn't entertaining for as crowded as it was tonight, not many men were biting for a woman to take to the sack. Birdie only shook her head to indicate she did not know and took a crate of dirty glasses back into the kitchen to make room for clean ones. Irritated Hank left the bar to Myra and took the stairs two at a time, telling her to find a willing customer as Abby _had_ to work; it was not going to be this easy as pie situation for her. It had been Hank's experience that you give an inch and someone will take a mile; Abby was in his opinion doing exactly that.

Swinging open her door so that it slammed hard against the wall, he found her in bed, struggling to sit up, acting as if she were disorientated. Rushing over Hank yanked her up and out of bed, dropping her soundly on the floor, the cry she let out was beyond pitiful. Face down against the cold wooden planked floor, Abby tried just to understand what was going on.

"Abby I am beyond fed up with you, I am royally fuckin' angry at you! Don't ever expect any form of sympathy from me ever again!" Abby struggled on the floor to get up, but Hank helped her, yanking her body up against his, her face tilted downwards. With rough fingers he pushed her chin up to force her to face him, and spoke harshly only inches away, as his other arm wrapped her tightly against his own body. In his anger he seemingly was able to be oblivious to her pained face, and sweat pouring down her cheeks, as her eyes were glazed over.

"Abby, you best listen clearly to what I am about to say because if you ever want to get out your shitty hell hole of life, you'll pay close attention. First you stop causin' trouble in my saloon; I ain't gonna keep on protectin' you. Second you best start whorin' a lot more then you'se been doin' 'cos your bill ain't gettin' paid off. And thirdly, you listen real closely right now—Abby you ain't nothin' but a whore! A whore Abby, your job is to fuck men and to be fucked by men! Do you understand me? Nothin' but a whore—so get movin' or you'll wish that rat bastard had killed you instead of just slicing you!" Hank finished his angered speech and shook her roughly, pushing her out the door.

Barely downstairs, in a half unaware state and Abby was met by a man, very intoxicated and ready to take a woman to bed. Hank shoved her into his arms, and stomped off, pushing aside Myra and telling Birdie to get him a whiskey. Birdie tried with little avail to switch the man Abby had been given to by Hank, it was Timothy who has asked for her. Timothy on the other hand watched the scene from across the bar as his heart sank, he wished he could do more for Abby and he knew tonight he had not been able to help her.

The man dragged Abby back up the stairs Hank has just dragged her down. Barely making it to her room, the one with the door still wide open from Hank slamming it so hard it had opened right back up. Abby tried to stand up straight, she tried to force herself to mold under his hands. But she felt so rotten and horrible and fell down, unable to hold herself up. The man angrily reached down for her and when pushed him away, swung his arm full force across her skull, cracking her face so hard, and her skin turned immediately scarlet. Storming out of the room, yelling, almost falling down the stairs as Timmy ran up them, he seethed, sputtering and hollering for Hank.

Timmy entered Abby's room, finding her crumpled up on the floor, he rushed over, bending down and touched her lightly on the shoulder. She shook, barely managing to pick her head up to look at him. Scooping her up in his arms he lifted her onto her bed as she moaned in pain. Looking down he saw blood seeping through her dress, as she turned a vomited onto the floor. Laying her head back on her bed, she tried to focus as she heard someone yelling for help. Timmy rushed out into the hallway and grabbed the first girl that rushed by which was Myra, as she ran from Hank's temper as he roared up the stairs, with the client in tow.

Pushed aside by Hank, Tim followed them into Abby's room, and desperately fought the urge to pummel the man when he pulled Abby off of the bed dropping her at Hank's feet. Crying out in pain as a swift foot connected with her pained side, Hank punched the man right in the nose, blood flying everywhere. Timothy again scoped Abby into his arms, and pulled her into safety out in the hallway, caring little she had bleed through her dress, and the sticky substance was staining his own clothing. Yelling at Myra to get Dr. Quinn, he slumped down on the floor, Abby no longer conscience in his arms.

No sooner had Hank thrown the guy through the doorway, warning him in a very angered tone to never ever treat one of his girls like that again, then Dr. Quinn was rushing up the stairs, Myra in tow. Dr. Quinn was only in her nightdress with a robe flying open, her braid wild from sleeping and gripping her medicine bag argued with Hank as Timothy emerged from the shadows. Dr. Mike's jaw dropped open and immediately ushered all of them into Abby's room. Forcing all the men out of the room, Michaela stripped Abby's dress of her, horrified to find a puckered wound, several stitches having burst, and bright red skin stretching across her torso. Turning to Myra whose face was filled with fear she told her the obvious;

"It's blood poisoning. And she has a very bad case of it."

"Will she die Dr.Mike?"

"Myra, I can't say either way at this point, the best thing is to get her over to my room and clean her up, medicate her and the wound and allow time for her fever to go down as it fights the infection. Hand me that blanket over there and get the men, one of them will need to carry her over to my room." Abby shivered under Dr. Quinn's touch, and Michaela covered her quickly as Timothy Dawson of all people obliged to carry Abby across the street up to her room.

A moan escaped Abby's unconscious lips as Tim laid her on Dr. Mike's bed, and the crowd followed in. Hank's angered voice was mouthing off at Michaela, and Myra was behind him, trying to pull him away from the scene. Dr. Quinn assessing the situation turned squarely and with hands on hips she spoke in a stern voice:

"As I told Myra, Abby here is very ill, her wound got infected Hank, much as I was afraid would," Michaela's cockiness had a habit of getting under Hank's skin, much as it was now. "She is suffering from a high fever and blood poisoning which is very much progressed, her condition is not very good and it will be sometime before I will be able to tell if I can stabilize her, so if you would leave us be I'll get to work on trying to save her." And with that Michaela shut the door on stunned, upset and worried faces. Without a word to Timothy, Hank grabbed Myra and headed back to the saloon, angry as hell, and Timothy went to find Charlotte and get a room for the night.

Back at the saloon, Hank was in rare form, despite Myra's attempts to assuage him from his anger. He wouldn't say it, but he was angry at himself, at Abby and at the whole situation. The rest of the night moved slowly and all the girls steered clear of Hank, and as dawn moved into morning he still had not joined Birdie in bed. Literally kicking the last patron out of the saloon, Hank took a long swig of whiskey from the bottle as the sun rose before he headed to his room where Birdie had been asleep for hours. Slipping into bed next to Birdie, Hank rolled over so that he back was towards her, even though he knew she had awoke. Laying in the dank quietness for some time before she spoke his thoughts were only on Abby.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So I have written on and off on this over the past few years. I am nearing the end so I thought it best to start posting the remaining chapters. I am unsure why I have such a hard time keeping up with my updates and if any of my faithful readers are still out there, please feel free to "yell" at me if I start slacking off! And, oh year---ENJOY!:) **

Birdie sat up in bed, frustrated after a half an hour in bed Hank had not turned to her nor said a word, he knew damned well she was awake.

"Hank what the hell? She gets hurt and suddenly you shut yourself off to me. Hello, I am the one you are supposed to be concerned about—not some whore!" Birdie had never disliked Abby before, but from what had occurred that night, knowing Abby was the reason she was no longer on Hank's mind, her entire being seethed with anger and dire hatred for the girl. Without even turning around, Hank's voice was crystal clear in response.

"I don't ever remember promoting you from whore Birdie. Abby ain't done nothin' to ya, now shut up and go to sleep, 'cos that is what I intend to do or get out!" Furious Birdie pushed Hank off the bed, jumping over him as his body slammed on the wooden planks and ran as fast as her feet could carry her, slamming the door of her old bedroom behind her as sobs choked her inwardly. Falling to the floor, she cursed Abby, and Hank, telling herself lies to make her anger plausible. Hank, as angry as he was with Birdie did not follow her; he fell back into his bed, swearing under his breath, finally falling asleep as the sun had fully rose, his thoughts now on Birdie and their "relationship."

Across the street, Michaela finally allowed herself some sleep in a makeshift bed on the floor. But before she would let herself lay down she took her dirty rags downstairs to boil them clean later on. Knowing Charlotte would rise soon she was exceptionally quiet and put the rags out of sight. Heading back upstairs, she stopped in astonishment—Timothy Dawson was outside Abby's room, she had not noticed him earlier. Gently shaking him from sleep, she spoke.

"Mr. Dawson, can I help you?" Rising, hat in hand he answered.

"Ma'm, Dr. Quinn I was waiting to hear how Abby is." His face looked just as tired as she felt.

"Oh, she is still very ill, I won't know anything for quite some time, her fever is high, but I am treating her and she is sleeping. I did not realize you were out here all this time. Why exactly did you stick around Mr. Dawson if you don't mind me asking?" Looking her straight in her eyes, he did not hesitate in his answer.

"Because frankly, Dr. Quinn between the two of us, I care what is happening to Abby. May I see her?" Michaela was taken aback by his honesty and only nodded, letting the doorknob go and allowing him to enter. Michaela watched curiously from the doorway as Timmy knelt next to the bedside, letting a hand brush across Abby's forehead, and holding her exposed hand with his other. Abby didn't even shift in her fevered sleep, she had no idea where she was, and who was with her or what was going on around her. Dr. Mike turned and went downstairs, shutting the door gently, hearing Charlotte bustling about downstairs. It had been a long night, and without some coffee, Michaela would know it would be an ever long day.

Several hours later Hank awoke with a start, the sun was pouring in on his eyes, and by looking at his pocket watch he realized he had slept most of the day away. It was near three in the afternoon, getting up; Hank pulled on new clothes and went in search of Birdie. Not finding her in Abby's bedroom, or upstairs he headed down. In the lap of a patron was Birdie, coddling the man, her face made up and her dress pulled lower then Hank felt was necessary. Shooting her a nasty look he headed to the kitchen for a drink of whiskey while a pot of coffee brewed. Myra was in the kitchen preparing a light evening meal; Hank sat down and said nothing. Myra turned and with concern sat down across the table from him.

"Hank it ain't yer fault Abby got so ill, she didn't take proper care of herself." As soon as Myra had said it, they both knew it was a lie. Hank sipped his coffee and did not speak for several minutes.

"Myra you don't have to lie, we both know it's my fault." Getting up he left his coffee barely touched and headed over to Jake's to catch up on the town gossip. However the town gossip only surrounded himself and last night's situation. Most everyone in town knew, it seemed that Hank had a girl over at Dr. Mike's fixing to die, and frankly most saw it as his fault. Which in truth it was, but he decided against doing what a man ought to do and going to see how she was. He'd collect her when he heard she was dead, not like she'd want to see him anyways if she were conscience.

Two weeks passed and Dr. Mike visited Hank every third day, at the end of the first week she had regained full consciousness he had learned, now that she was out of her coma induced state she only fell back into deep sleep. Often she was awake for short amounts of time. Hank had taken to drinking heavier than usual and still expected her to die. What he was not informed of was that Timothy Dawson was visiting her everyday and had been since the incident. On the fifteenth day Michaela chewed Hank out for not coming to see her, or at the very least apologizing for the hell he had caused her. Angrily he threw his glass of whiskey closely at Dr. Mike's head, narrowly missing, without words asking her rudely to leave.

An hour and a half later he was over at the clinic, bristling with irritation. But as he began to take the stairs two at a time, Michaela stopped him at the top, hands on hips and a smug, square look on her face.

"What? I came."

"After I shamed you. You don't care about that girl. Just so long as she makes you money."

"Mike I assumed she'd die first."

"Cheaper that way I suppose."

"Mike I'm here let me see her."

"She is not doing so well this afternoon Hank, she hasn't been conscious for much of the day, I just checked on her and she's still out."

"Listen Mike I ain't got all day to just sit around waiting for her to wake up."

"Go on in but don't disturb her." Michaela held the door for him and shut it tightly behind him. Walking slowly over to the bed which Abby lay in he saw how pale she still was, her face fully drained of color, and her skin seemed tight against the bones of her face. But she was awake and watched him wearily with her eyes, closing them and slowly opening them a few times before she closed them again. Hank pulled the chair closer to the bed and sitting down took one of Abby's hands, and spoke;

"Abby will you please look at me? I saw you awake when I came in." His tone was commanding but not meanly. She turned her head slightly and cracked open her eyes but they did not acknowledge him fully. "I'm sorry for what happened, but you have to realize things like what did to you ain't common necessarily in our line of work. When you come back I'll be more selective in who takes you, but Abby you owe me too much to just let you off of the hook. Take your time healing." And with that he got up and left, without bidding Dr. Mike notice of such. An hour later she went back up to check on her and stopped in the doorway seeing the back form of a one Timothy Dawson.

Michaela pulled back and decided to not interrupt albeit her nosiness dying to intrude. Hank had not stayed long enough for Michaela to get a chance to overhear what he said to her, but he assumed since no drama or disturbance had occurred it had been much of anything.

"Let me ask him I would do anything to try and take care of you."

"Oh Timmy, please." Abby weakly waved a hand about trying to dismiss the third time Timothy had attempted a marriage proposal of sorts. "Hank ain't going to let go of what he owns." She closed her eyes and felt his presence disappear, she opened her eyes to see his figure leaving. He was frustrated with everything, knowing there was nothing he could do, that nothing he did do would help the present situation. Hank owned Abby for five years and at the rate things were progressing he would probably add another year onto her debt.


	9. Chapter 9

At the end of that month Abby had returned to near perfect form, a wicked scar left as a permanent reminder, but she had beaten the poisoning of her blood and overcome it. Hank had said he wanted her back by the end of the week and tonight it was Friday. Timothy had only come back once more after she had refused to hear talk of marriage and she wondered if it was coincidental. Hank had been back but not to see her and she dreaded leaving tomorrow, the last week and a half had been a farce on her illness. She was scared of returning and wondered how things would be from here on out.

Abby was listening to Dr. Mike as she insisted on being called when Hank burst in on them without knocking.

"You owe me a fuckin' explanation Abby!" Both women were startled and Abby felt a queasiness flood through her, what could she possibly have done.

"Mr. Lawson if you—" Hank cut in on Dr. Mike quickly.

"Cut the bullshit Michaela and get out I need a word with Abby ALONE, and if you insist on tellin' me that this yer place then I'll drag her outta this here bed and she'll answer at the saloon. Even though she ain't due to return 'til tomorrow."

"Alright Hank," Michaela said with a clipped tone, she turned to face Abby, the girl's face painted with horror, "Abby I'll be right downstairs."

Dr. Mike had barely shut the door when Hank sat on the bed, half on her legs; reaching out he gripped her wrists with one hand easily and snapped:

"Who the hell do you think I am? Did you think I'm stupid Abby? I own the saloon, I find everything out eventually. How long did you think it was before I'd learn about Mr. Timothy Dawson's, how did he put it, oh yes 'undying affection and love.' The scamp means to marry you if I'd let him." Abby swallowed hard, terrified of Hank's next move. He moved close so that they were face to face, not even inches apart. When he smacked her, it was hard enough she saw bright lights and her ears rang out. It stunned her and she could not help from letting her tears slip out. When Hank said nothing further nor moved, Abby mustered up a voice she wasn't sure was hers, and a lie she had played in her mind over and over.

"I don't understand Hank. I never asked him to do that. I just accept him when he pays for me. Just like all the other men. I don't know why he did that, he means nothing to me. Except that he's a good customer and ain't rough like some men."

Her gaze held with his, but even then she wondered if he would buy her lie. Her heart raced, how on earth Timmy dare go behind her back and do exactly what she had prohibited him to do. After several minutes Hank let go of her, but the look her shot her without any words as he left warned her, she tested dangerous waters if he ever found out she had just lied to him. And then he turned in the doorway and said:

"Tomorrow Abby you go back to work, and I don't care what cowboy falls in love with you, you'll not be allowed to go with Timothy Dawson again. I don't care how much he offers you—I will beat you if I have to in order to keep order in my saloon. But only if you go against my wishes." His tone was bitter and it cut Abby like a knife.

Abby sobbed silently after he left, but the tears refused to leave her even when Dr. Quinn came back to check on her. Her appetite was completely gone and only slept that night because Dr. Quinn gave her a tea to help her calm down. When she woke the day was as gloomy as her spirits and she took her time getting ready to leave. But by early evening Hank already had her back in his grips, and as such put her straight to work. But Abby did not complain, and serviced four different men that night alone. When the sun began to rise she was not able to fall asleep and instead took a cup of coffee out on the back porch. Birdie came out and sat behind her rocking, but Abby did not hear her at first, her thoughts with Tim. It was only after Birdie spoke up did she realize she wasn't alone.

"Well it seems you've created quite a stir 'round here lately." Birdie's tone was neither warm nor friendly, the look her face only supported. Abby tried to be kind in response however.

"Oh I didn't know anyone else was out here. I didn't mean to cause a stir." Abby responded meekly.

"Sure you didn't. Just watch yourself Abby, you ain't necessarily gonna be so lucky next time." With that Birdie snapped her silken skirts into her hand she stood and walked back into the saloon letting the back door slam as it hit. Abby stared after her confused, Birdie had seemed downright annoyed with her, which she didn't understand. That night Timmy was in the saloon, but she refused to meet his eyes and all the girls knew Hank had labeled her off limits. She was with another cowboy who finished quickly, but then fell asleep just as quickly. A knock on her door startled her, but the dozing man did not wake. She pulled on a ragged nightdress and wrapped a shawl around her bare arms. She mainly expected Hank. It was Timmy she realized with horror, and the noises below asserted that saloon was still busy.

"What are you doing here? Hank will beat me if he sees us together again. What the hell were you thinking when you proposed to him to marry me? Timmy what were you doing? Before I could at least see you, but now, now I can't even be near you." Tears fell in a thick river, but he did not touch her for fear they would be discovered.

"I made a mistake Abby, I'm sorry. Please, it was ill planned; I just couldn't bear seeing you suffering like that. I just wanted to take you away from here, I still do. Abby I'm sorry." His voice was low, but out of the corner of Abby's eye she knew their meeting had been seen as Birdie passed. She prayed she would not tell Hank.

"Please go right now Timmy, please." She wiped away her tears and shut the door gently as not to wake the unknown man in her bed. But Tim stepped in before she could and shut the door behind him, catching her in his arms.

"I will leave you just so you are not hurt, but I will keep my eye on you Abby. I still love you; I will wait until you can marry me." Abby could only nod as his lips descended upon hers. The kiss was over before it began and Timmy left through her window and wondered when she'd ever be able to actually be near him again. Abby woke up the unknown man in her bed.

"Time's up cowboy." He just grinned at her; he was at that in between age of no longer being that young, but still young enough. His greased dirty blonde curls hid his face partly, his near black eyes squinting at her. He had been easy going enough thus far, but with the shake of his curls and a low laugh she saw peeking out a long, narrow, white scar she hadn't noticed before. He reached for her, pulling her down despite her slight protestations. His tan face and hands did not match the rest of his milky white torso. Easily he pinned her under his body, ready to have her again. Abby smiled, trying to play it off, he had been good natured until now.

"Listen doll, why don't you give me the second go for free eh?" Abby struggled to move out from under him.

"I don't mind giving you seconds but you'll have to pay. I'll get in trouble otherwise." The cowboy ignored her as he slid a hand up her thigh, but she did not part her legs for him. "I'm serious mister, it ain't that I mind but you'll have to pay."

"No one will know if we don't tell. Besides don't think I was all that asleep, I saw your sweetheart kissing you before you slipped him out the window." Abby's eyes met with his, her breath stuck in her throat. He laughed again, his face no longer seeming as good-natured or as innocent; the laugh was harsher than it should be. He never had been asleep she believed and was horrified how easily he could expose her.

"Ok." Abby said meekly and closed her eyes as she let him take free seconds. When he finished he got up and dressed, Abby did not move nor look at him until he spoke up.

"You're a sweet little thing, expect to see me again, I plan on stickin' round these parts fer a while." He kneeled next to the bed and Abby still looked away from him. With a rough finger he traced a line down between her breasts. "Oh and Abby is it? Your secret is safe with me so long as I continue to get my two for one." Abby only nodded and waited for him to go, but he took his time as if he were engraining his mind with her image.

True to his word, the nameless cowboy returned several times in the next week, each night asking specifically first for Star then moving to Abby where he'd remain long enough for his free seconds. He wasn't particularly rough, but instead threatened her with her secret. Timmy was in the saloon only once more and did not even look in her general direction, but as she was helping out behind the bar he bought a drink. As she handed it to him, he held both her gaze and her hand a little too long, for when she looked up as he left she saw the nameless cowboy staring right at her from the other side of the saloon.

That night when he entered her room, she was already asleep, and did not realize he hadn't even paid for her. He slid into bed next to her, pulling her body up against his, entering her before she fully realized what was going on. Attempting to scream, she was silenced with his large rough hand as he moved to fully cover her body. She struggled in the dark until he whispered a threat in her ear, with the knowledge of a touch too long at the bar. Gasping for breath out of fear as she complied, she realized this cowboy was not as innocent as she originally had believed. When he finished, he did not leave but stayed, his hands fondling her. As the sun was rising he readied to leave, and Abby asked the first question she ever had of him.

"What is your name?" The man turned annoyance in his eyes.

"Tobey." Abby waited for the rest of his name but when it did not come and he continued to glare at her she did not push the issue. He left, but glared further. Abby could not sleep, her nerves were shaken, and she had difficulty drinking down the powdered water. That night Tobey bought her for the entire night and had her more than twice, more times then she'd ever been had then even in nights with more than one customer. Weariness overcame her and by the time he let her be, she was shaking slightly. Sleep was near when Hank came in without knocking, she didn't even realize Tobey had actually left and thought it might be him returning, she felt a slight panic thrill through her body until she realized who it was.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I realize my chapters have been shorter, I just want to let you know that I have revised/rewritten and reworked parts of Chapters 3-4 and am currently at work on Chapter 5. I suggest a reread of them as they are a bit different, and I am much more pleased with how they came out. That being said: Enjoy!

"Wake up Abby, you just gonna sleep away the day?" Abby was groggy as she reached for her shift and pulled it over her body, the sun was not even high but she didn't bother to argue with Hank.

"What is it Hank?"

"I'm going away today for a few weeks, Birdie's been put in charge, I've been meaning to let you know but you've been workin' pretty steady since you got back. Also Abby I want you to know it was wrong what I did at Dr. Mike's a few weeks back. You only deserve a slap if you caused me a reason, you didn't. I ain't seen that Timothy Dawson near you either. Alright, well keep up the good work and mind Birdie. She calls all the shots while I'm gone. Goodbye Abby." He headed for the door but Abby stopped him.

"Wait where you goin'?"

"I've got some business in Denver and elsewhere, I'll be back in some week's time." With that he was gone, and Abby wondered if now maybe she'd be able to see Timmy. Tobey had really started to wear on her and Birdie hadn't ratted her out about that night. She had two weeks at least until Hank was back. Abby bathed and dressed, praying that Tim would come into town tonight. But town that day after Hank left was a mess. Charlotte Cooper had bitten by a rattlesnake early in the morning outside of town, and died just a few hours later, everyone seemed to feel the loss.

That night Tim did not come to town, but then neither did Tobey, but Birdie who had barely spoken to her at all put her to work behind the bar. There wasn't much for business that night nor the next and still she was relieved temporarily of her whoring duties. Abby was finally able to sleep full nights, and after two days of such was wishing she could always just attend to bar duties.

That day Birdie had what Myra called one of her classic breakdowns. "They come every several months or so, but when they come, watch out!" Abby was doing her best to stay out of Birdies way when the elder whore blew up at her.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT! GO!" Abby only nodded and ran outside, running smack into Tobey who seemed to just be wandering the quiet main street as all were at the church for Charlotte's funeral.

"Abby, my dear Abby, I've been awaitin' you." Tobey wrapped an arm around her as he forcefully began to lead her away from the saloon.

"Let me go please. I'm off duty right now." Abby tried to wriggle free.

"No Abby," a feminine voice spoke up behind her. Abby turned, still in Tobey's grasp to see Birdie standing, a grim smile on her face. "See Hank left me in charge, and ever since you got yourself hurt you've kinda gone up in his favor. Now I ain't a woman who likes to share Hank, you might call me a mite jealous. And thus here Tobey has offered to take you off our hands. It's really such an offer one can't refuse."

Abby felt panic rising in her, a hard glint was in his eyes, he wasn't big like other men, taller then her, but while he looked smallish, he was all muscle as he clenched her against him. His hot breath on her ear made her squirm.

"Please Birdie don't do this. I'm sorry if you think I—" Birdie's smack across the face startled her but it didn't hurt as much as surprise her.

"No Abby, you've been such a goddamned pain in my ass for quite some time now. Tobey is now your owner; he'll do what he pleases with you." And just as coolly, in broad daylight, Birdie turned and left. Abby once again feeling just as hopeless, if not more as she had felt when her father had sold her to Hank.

"Let's go Abby, I'm sure the boys will just love to be gettin' acquainted with you. I've loved havin' ya to myself, but a leader can't be selfish can he now?" Abby tried to comprehend his words as he dragged her towards a clearing outside of town where two horses awaited them. Fear chilled her spine as he threw her carelessly and with little effort onto a horse and grabbing her hands, tied them to the saddle horn. As they began a steady trot out of town towards the wilderness Abby tried desperately to swallow the bile rising in her throat. They crossed over Timmy's land, but no one was out there, and the land soon gave way to barren desert as they rode long and late into the night.

When they did make camp, it was a cold one without a fire. Tobey pulled her off of her horse, her thighs bruised from not being used to this type of hard riding. All he produced for food was a bite of hardtack and did not offer her any. Abby tried to rub feeling back into her wrists as she sat against her horse's saddle. She felt his eyes on her, and again the reality of the situation hit her, her insides quivered.

"If yer thinkin' of runnin', don't. I ain't one to kill runaways; I'd rather make their life a livin' hell instead." Tobey said as he stood and moved over to where she sat, his presence was overbearing, even in a dark night like tonight Abby thought. She tried to shy away as he unbuttoned his pants, and reached for her. She pulled away but he grabbed one of her ankles and pulled her under him. He used her hard and he used her worse than ever before, and when he did finally finish Abby wondered if she might die. She wanted to go wash, the pain between her legs was throbbing, but Tobey rebuttoned his pants and tied her to the lone tree in such a fashion she was forced to kneel and lean lopsidedly against it.

Abby did not sleep, but did try to loosen the ropes, when Tobey awoke; he cracked her head against the tree so hard she hoped she might pass out. When she didn't, he laughed crudely and untied her only to push her against the tree and lifting her skirts abused her once more. He did not touch her for the next two days as they rode hard and made another cold camp. They stopped at the end of the second day by a river, the moon now a quarter-filled as it shone over them. Abby wondered if they were even in Colorado anymore.

"Git walkin'." Was Tobey's command long before the sun rose; Abby had drifted into a sleep which was as tormenting with its dreams as her life had become. When Abby did not move fast enough for him, he took his rifle butt and barreled it first into her back and then grabbed her by her hair and into her stomach. Falling to the ground, she doubled over in pain; tears welled up and poured off of her face in spite of herself.

"Oh a cry baby are ya? If you don't git movin' I will make you move." Abby struggled to get to her feet, as Tobey clenched his face and spit on her. Tobey tied the horses together and led them, as they walked for the better part of the morning. The sun had risen high and was beating down on them when he commanded her to mount. Abby tried but the blows of earlier made it tough. He pulled her off the horse, throwing her to the ground and kicked her in the head.


	11. Chapter 11

When Abby awoke, she was in a small dark space. Her body was sore; her head ached while her eyes refused to adjust. She was cramped; as Abby tried to shift, she realized she couldn't stretch out all the way. Feeling with her hands she felt her barriers were cold and stony as she realized she was enclosed in what she thought was rock. Abby had just begun to accept the idea, before a stone was rolled away from the front of her encasement. A pair of hands reached in for her, groping at her as they yanked her out. It took Abby a few minutes to adjust to quite dim lighting, but as her eyes adjusted to the limited visibility she realized she'd been in a small holding area of a much larger cavern.

"Move!" A stern voice ordered and Abby obeyed, trying to see the man behind her but he just shoved her forward instead. She was shoved right into a larger open area where a fire was crackling and several rough looking men sat around. Abby tried to count but her brain no longer seemed to work, but there was at least near ten. They were talking crassly and laughing at the rudeness of it all, but when she was pushed into the area she was the only thing they were looking at. None of the men were familiar faces to her, and unlike the saloon there wasn't an ounce of civility in the air. The man behind her walked around and grunted at her as he joined the others just staring at her. And then she saw Tobey stand up, he had been hidden by a fat Mexican.

"Boys, I promised we'd have a little female companionship permanently, well take a look at her. She's ours for good, anyone can use, take her, but he who has needs to pay his dues if they ain't already." He sauntered over to her, whacking her hard into the fat Mexican's arms.

"Go 'head Poncho, it's been a while since you had a whore. Take her for a try, then the rest of you boys line up. And boys while she can be a bit of a cold fish at first, we'll warm her up real quick won't we?" Abby wanted to squirm, but did not, it would only make it more painful. She closed her eyes, and tried to close her mind off as well, but as each one took their turn, she felt the emotional pain seep into her soul as her body began to further throb. When they finished with her, a fight broke out over who got first dibs at seconds, and she was ultimately the one who ended up with the beating. When half of them had had seconds, blood was seeping out of her shift, and her thighs which had been bruised from riding were raw from their chaps. Tobey was the one took her up last and then physically threw her into the little hole she'd been in when she'd woken. For the first time ever, Abby longed for the saloon and Hank.

Abby could not sleep, her body ached, and she believed each day more deeply that perhaps life at the saloon had not been so bad. Her life became a sad recollection of no days and no nights. They wore her out; they did feed her on occasion, but used her more to fuck. Originally she'd been expected to cook, but one taste of her weak attempt at a stew and the fat Mexican had thrown the scalding hot cauldron into the group and told Tobey he'd better find someone else to cook. More than anyone else Tobey took her and had her, often when the others were sleeping, so simply did he move the rock and remove her. She was filthy and yet while he'd sometimes throw a bucket of water on her, he never allowed her a bath. In the dark she could feel her limbs thinning away, and wondered if she might ever get out alive.

Hank returned a week later than he'd expected, three weeks was a long time to be gone from home. He was actually looking forward to getting back to his saloon, with his own girls. He'd taken up with a whore in Denver he'd had before and tried to persuade her to join him back to Colorado Springs, but she'd refused him. On the ride home he recollected that it was probably just as well, Birdie was getting awful attached to him. It was an issue he knew he'd have to address sooner or later. Most likely sooner than later. Always seemed he couldn't ever just have an affair without the whore turning jealous, expecting his undying attention forever. Well Hank Lawson wasn't the kind of man to settle down with just anyone. It would take someone pretty goddamned special to change his way of life.

Arriving into town he was met with the sad news of Charlotte's passing by Sully and headed home. The saloon was quiet, but then again it was just midday, and Birdie was behind the bar whistling a happy tune as she polished a beer mug. Hank sat down and rapped his knuckles on the wooden bar; she looked up at him playfully and served him a whiskey.

"Welcome home Hank." Her tone was seductive and he decided to attend to business later as he led her back to his room. He'd had his Denver whore just that morning, but twice a day was good for a man he honestly believed. Lying in bed, Birdie stroked his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. She was one of the best he'd ever had, he hated to part with her, but he couldn't keep this charade up forever. Time for business.

"How're things while I was gone?"

"Alright, we managed, but we missed you, especially me, I really missed you." Hank only nodded as he responded.

"Girls mind you alright? Abby in particular?"

"Yeap, well up til she run off Hank." Birdie said, lying sweetly through her teeth. Hank shifted to look at her in the eyes, but she would not meet his when she repeated her response at his request.

"With that Dawson kid? I told her straight. I'm gonna find her and I'm gonna beat some sense into her. This time she's gone too far!" He shifted to get himself out of bed, but she pulled him back, smiling at him.

"No, it ain't Dawson, he ain't been in here actually since the night 'fore you left. I guess he's given up lovin' on Abby."

"Then who'd she run off with?"

"Probably that Tobey, he was always havin' her so much. Guess it'd be him." Hank's blood ran cold at the comment, Tobey McCallister was a tough man, he wasn't sensible and when Hank had seen him in the saloon he'd kept a close eye on him. Nor was he someone that he would expect Abby to run away with. Tobey was a liar, thief and a card cheat. Many a men had claimed he'd done them wrong, but no one had been able to prove it. Rumor had it he was just a drifter now, but in Denver; Hank had heard that Tobey was settled something on the border with a gang of sorts. It bothered him that he had been in Hank's saloon so much as of late. Hank hadn't really paid much attention to Abby's customer clientele so long as it wasn't Dawson before he'd left. But the fact Abby had run off with Tobey bothered him, he aimed to get his girl back.

"Oh Hank, Tobey also sent us a little cash, fer a future investment I guess you could say." Hank sat up, nothing Birdie was telling him made the damn near bit of sense.

"What? What is going on?" Birdie perched against him, so that their eyes did not meet.

"Well I guess he more like bought Abby, she didn't so much run off." Hank pushed Birdie off of him, and forced her to look at him, gripping her tightly, not caring that he was probably hurting her.

"What are you sayin'?" His tone was testy and he saw fire flare up in her eyes.

"I'm sayin,'" she snapped, "I sold Abby to that cowhand Tobey for one thousand dollars. Hank smacked her fully across the face.

"You goddamned jealous cow. Move. Now." His tone was curt as he practically pushed Birdie out of bed. He slid out and dressed quickly; as he left the saloon without so much as another word, except to tell Myra to make sure Birdie went nowhere, and to keep business going.

Hank didn't return that day or the next, but when he did he was with Timothy Dawson, Sully, and Jake Slicker. An unlikely bunch, Myra thought but kept her mouth shut as they kept to their own corner of the saloon. Birdie hadn't left Hank's room since he'd returned and the girls all had been on edge since Abby had been sent away. Birdie had claimed that it was Hank's wishes, but none of them really believed it, but so long as she was in charge the rest minded their own business so that they weren't met with the same fate.

Tobey McCallister was not a new face to the Golden Nugget when he'd shown up a month back or so. He came in here and there, sometimes it'd be a year or two between visits, but as long as Myra had been with Hank, he'd found his way to his saloon always, eventually. Myra had miraculously never had to put up with Tobey, he was known for his preference in certain whores and once he got a taste of something he liked, he was hell bent to have to part with it. Myra was tending bar when Hank came over and told her follow him into the kitchen where they could speak in private. Myra did as she was bid, shutting the door behind her.

"What is it Hank?" She asked concern in his voice, of everything that had been going on lately, none of it made much sense.

"Well Myra, Birdie's lost it, she's always been shaky, but she's finally gone over. I intend to ride after Tobey and get back Abby. I'd usually take the money if I thought Abby had a part in this mess, but I got a bad feeling about all what's gone on. I ain't sure when we'll be back, if we'll get back. If the rumors about Tobey are true then we are sure to meet up with some trouble. I suggest you run this saloon as if I'd left it to you. Don't let Birdie out of your sight, I ain't decided what to do with her as of yet. If I don't come back, although I'm plannin' on comin' back, git rid of her. You got a good head on yer shoulders Myra, you know how to run this business, I'm leaving it in your hands."

**A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the story, I definitely appreciate the reviews. That's all, and THANKS!**


	12. Chapter 12

Abby ached; every inch of her body felt like it was revolting against her, pain flew through every fiber of her being. She no longer cried, it was as if her tears had been all cried out in the early days of being taken by Tobey. Tears didn't lessen the pain; in fact they only made it worse. She was hoping that eventually she'd fall asleep and not wake up. How quickly things had gone downhill, a lesser woman would have blamed Timmy. The thought never crossed her mind, though she wondered if he'd gotten over her, and moved on to another whore. Reality had a harsh way of setting in when there was nothing else to do but think. And think Abby did, she thought all over her life thus far and how pitifully she had failed.

While the other men used her on a regular basis, Tobey had been missing in action for quite some time, albeit Abby had no way to tell how long it really had been. And then he appeared, but he didn't come alone, he had with him a girl, Abby knew instantly she was younger than her. The girl quivered in his grip, and tears dripped off her cheeks, her long dark black was barely held in a messy braid. Dark brown eyes shined, purple bruises faded beneath her eyes. She was a beautiful young Mexican.

"Boys I brought us another present." The man on her finished and shoved her against the cavern wall, as she slid to the ground. The girl looked no older then fourteen at best, Abby wondered if Tobey had used her like he had her, or if he'd seen the pretty sprite from a distance and impulsively snatched her. A tall gangly man, with rough features and nearly rotten teeth reached for the girl. She squealed as she pulled back but was met by a slap aside the head and a shove forward into the waiting arms. Abby wanted to look away but she could not. Tobey caught her eye and headed straight for her, she tried to stand so that he would not kick her but instead he pulled her into his arms.

"Abby, oh I have missed you. I thought another little one would keep the boys busy enough to take you back fer myself." Abby revolted in horror. "A fresh one I ain't even touched her myself." Abby twisted in his arms, speaking for the first time in what must be weeks, it was so hard to do her mouth could barely form the words.

"Let her go Tobey, you already have me, please." He smacked her face harshly and spit on her.

"Jealous eh? Well I ain't takin' orders from no whore. But I'll take what I want from the whore." Abby closed her eyes as his hands traveled up under her shift; her dress had been worn to rags. The girl cried and screamed as the men each took their turn, but no longer did any of them touch her except for Toby who continued to keep her in her living grave.

Tim found sighting of the cavern first, he had seen a few men leaving on horseback, heading towards the Mexican border. A few tips and heavy bribing had led the small group to where Tobey McCallister was believed to be holed up. His business was running liquor and stealing women, when he tired of them he sold them south of the border. Neither Tim nor Hank had any intention of letting that happen to Abby. Tim had brought the remaining three back to where he'd tracked them when they had just settled into position when a gun went off. The sound vibrated loudly in the hills around them.

Abby fell to the ground in horror just feet away, Poncho had just shot the girl point blank in the face. She could not help herself as she rolled over and vomited. Tobey kicked her in the back and snapped.

"Yer lucky, that coulda been you. Goddamnit!" Abby found she could not still herself, her body shaking with fright, she didn't believe she was lucky.

"Tobey we spotted a rider nearby, he ain't ours." Tobey only grunted, picking up and tossing Abby into her hole before taking off. She closed her eyes and half expected to be pulled back out just as quickly, or to be shot as the other girl had been.

When she heard gunfire she didn't know what more to make of it then they had found the lone rider. Her heart beat quicker though at the sound of a voice she thought sounded familiar, it was familiar, and it was Hank's. Gun fire was continued to be exchanged and she tried to find a way to call out. But it seemed no sound would come out of her mouth, she tried but with little avail. And then it struck her perhaps there was no one out there, that she'd imagined it all.

Abby no longer remembered how time worked, but it seemed it had been a long time for imaginary gun shots going off. She had no idea if it was day or night, but she pressed against the stone wall, expecting any minute for the stone to be rolled away and to be shot. She closed her eyes and prayed that whatever happened that God would forgive her of her sins and let her into heaven. Abby feared hell not because she had done anything to deserve it, but because she was afraid it would be no worse nor no better then what she experienced right now.

The stone rolled away, she heard it, the dim light cast over her eye lids, but she would not open them. Arms pulled for her but she cried out, she didn't want Tobey to take her again. But then no harshness came, only the voice she thought she'd heard.

"It's alright Abby, its me, Hank. C'mere you don't have to be afraid anymore." She opened her eyes halfway as he pulled her lithe, beaten, dirtied and shaking form out into his arms. As she clutched to him she pressed her face against his body, unsure it was truly him, and gladly let him crush her against him. He wrapped her in his arms, and she pressed her face against him, not sure if what was happening was real or if she had just imagined everything. He had pulled off his coat before reaching for her and wrapped it awkwardly around her, covering her as best he could. She shook so fiercely in his arms; he tried to calm her at first with words, but then just said:

"Abby we have to go before anyone else comes, but you will be okay." She did not speak, nor fight him. When he walked out with her in his arms, Timmy reached for her, but she shied away, pushing further against Hank, her eyes dry of the tears he was sure she had.

"Not now Dawson, she's just come outta hell." Timothy didn't argue with him as Hank pulled her up onto the horse behind him, she had let him put the coat on her. She wrapped her nimble arms around his middle, holding as tight as she could, pressing her face against his back, taking in everything about him with her eyes, nose and ears. They rode for several hours to put distance between them and the cave before they stopped to rest the horses. Abby would not let go of Hank and so they were left to themselves while the other men made a camp. Hank sat in the corner with her, edging closer to the fire once it had been started, pulling a woolen blanket over them. He could feel her bones against him, her wrist held ajar by her other hand, he had to look away. Had Tobey even bothered to ever feed her?

When Hank went off to relieve himself, and then get them some food, she stared straight into the fire. She didn't want anyone else to touch her, to come near her, she knew they were talking about her and that was enough. When Hank laid down that night to sleep she turned into him so that no one could see her face and she could not see out. He wrapped her into his arms, and did nothing more, she didn't feel safe, but she didn't feel unsafe. Sleep didn't come easy with her battered body tense, she was afraid she would awake to find this rescue a dream.

When she awoke, Hank was sitting beside her, sipping on a cup of steaming coffee. He had another one at his feet, offering it to her, she sat up slowly. Only then in the brilliant morning sun was Hank able to fully take in the full extent of her beatings. Her face and body were covered with bruises, some faint, many still bright and fresh. Her hair was matted down to her head and he further took in the extreme thinness of her arm as she reached for the mug. He said little as she sipped on the coffee, her back to everyone else as they watched but tried not to make it obvious. She finally looked into his face, and he saw fear still in her eyes, an eerie calm fought to settle there, but even the slight shakiness of her hand forced tenderness in him he no longer believed existed.

"Abby, there is a stream nearby where we watered the horses, do you want to clean up before we head out? It'll just be us." She nodded and took his hand as he helped her up, she knew she must smell although he had not once given her said impression. He walked close to her, noting her slow pace and the limp her legs produced from weeks of disuse. The water was not cool by any standards, but Abby began to shiver with her first few steps into the watering hole. Stopped she dropped to her knees and splashed water onto her face over and over. Concerned Hank came in behind her, a hand on her shoulder he felt her shuddering, encasing her in his arms; he felt the sobs that had waited long enough racking her body. The water flowed around them as he pulled her tight, her wet face mingled with new tears as he held her but pulled back against him as they floated in the shallow water. After some time he pulled her towards shore as she willingly obeyed.


	13. Chapter 13

Late that afternoon they hobbled the horses and Abby lay down, willing herself to sleep as she knew Hank was nearby. She's barely fallen asleep when her sleep became a torment and she was thrust back into Tobey's cavern. Men were leering and grabbing at her, she was in the middle of a circle, the body of the dead girl in her arms. Tears of blood streamed down the girl's face, even though she no longer drew a breath. Her blood curdling scream brought the men running, Timmy reaching her first, lifting her into his arms. But when she awoke it was not comfort which she found in him, but rather it terrorized her further and she cried out like a wounded animal. He let her slip into Hank's arms who held her close like yesterday and soothed her with soft words, slowly rubbing his hand down her back and rocking her gently.

The sun slipped away as she fell asleep on a make-shift bed of horse blankets and Hank's bed roll. Hank promised he would not drift further then a few feet, and made good on that promise, eating dinner and drinking his bitter black coffee next to her. The night heat was considerably cooler then the day, but still warm enough that when he lay down next to her, he felt no urge to steal some of the blanket. As the half moon rose fully overhead, he could still hear Tim and Sully's voices lowly talking at the other edge of the fire. Returning his glance to Abby, he saw that even beneath the blanket, in this heat she shivered in her sleep. Pulling her against his body, wrapping her tightly in his arms, he could tell by her breathing she was asleep, but soon her shaking stopped and he felt her relax, a softer slumber encasing her.

Abby woke at dawn, Hank still asleep, an arm still lightly encasing her against him, her fears assuaged that this was indeed real, that she had actually been rescued and that this was not a fantasy-type dream as the one's she'd played over and over in her head during captivity. In those dreams she'd imagined Timmy coming to save her and now he repulsed her, she could not allow him near her, she was completely ruined, and he should be saved the suffering with which she would have to eventually come to grips.

Wiping herself after relieving herself, Abby wished she didn't have to get back on that horse; she just wanted to be back where she could stay in one place for longer then one night. Abby accepted Hank's help up onto his horse; she was quiet all the day they rode, leaning back into Hank, her body too weak and sore for her to keep own self upward. The sun warmed her as she settled in for the rest of the length back to Colorado Springs, Hank's coat was wrapped around her and soon she fell asleep feeling safe with his arms strung around her sides.

Hank felt her soft wisps of breath signaling her asleep as her lithe body rose and fell with each; she was exhausted to the bone. Abby's head slipped onto the crook of his shoulder, so that his chin rested lightly on her crown, the group rode silently. He worried what would come of her, originally just finding her had been the goal, but now she was found and would respond only to him. He already knew he'd never make her work another day in her life for him, but of her mental injuries and possible emotional ones he did not know what would help her. He had asked Dr. Mike to come, but she'd declined, needing to stay in town in case something else should happen, she had promised to be waiting at the clinic when they returned. If only Hank had let Timmy pay off Abby's debt and marry her when he'd wanted, this would never have happened. Timothy Dawson had made that point quite clear that night they set out for Abby. And now, now what to do with this young ruined woman, on the verge of life, she couldn't bear to be near any other man, let alone the one who loved her most.

Abby wheezed in her slumbered state, and it jolted Hank from his thoughts. She was thin and ragged; he wondered if she was really a woman anymore, she had been so devastatingly violated. He'd rarely had time to be anything but the boss to his girls, preferred to keep a distance, he owned their bodies, but so long as they did their jobs, he could be friendly. He had loved Myra, but she'd wanted too much from him and knew one day he would lose her to someone else. The sun beat down on them, he felt sweat trickle down his back, but Abby shivered in her restless slumber. When the sun grew high overhead, they stopped to water the horses, and Abby lay down on the bank, watching the water float by slowly. Hank saw Timmy slowly approach her, and let him, if only to see what would happen.

Even gently approaching her, Tim startled Abby, frightened her so badly she looked bewildered, her eyes searching past him for Hank, even as he tried to speak calm words to her. Abby sat up, her eyes almost level with Tim's, her heart racing, her blood shooting through her veins, a chill crept up the back of her spine as fright terrorized her. Hank was nowhere to be seen, and she felt all the more unsafe. She could not hear the words Timmy said to her, her ears pounding, she willed for him to go, and cried out when he laid a palm on her cheek.

"Abby please," he pleaded, she did not pull away, but the look on her face made him think she viewed him just as ill as she did Tobey, "Abby I won't hurt you, I never have, I never would, oh Abby I promise, please don't be afraid of me." Her eyes were swimming with tears, caused by him because of her fear, he moved away quickly as Hank came to her rescue. Placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back, he led her away from Tim, settling her near their horse, having her sip a bit out of the canteen. Abby obliged, and followed him with her eyes as he returned to talk to a distraught Tim, splashing water over his head. When his eyes met with Hank's, he realized Tim was crying, Hank would not hold it against him.

"Hank I swear I NEVER did anything against her, I mean you can hold against me using her as a whore the first few times I met her, but I didn't touch her after that, and I apologized and I meant it. I loved…I love her, I—." Hank placed a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him and spoke, keeping direct eye contact.

"It's not you Tim, it's just about any man, she's terrified, I ain't gonna say why she ain't terrified just as badly of me as the rest of ya'll, 'cos I ain't got that answer. But I think she's ashamed Dawson, and she just ain't gonna be able to let herself be yours like before, but you gotta realize this ain't a permanent fix. Let Dr. Mike fix 'er up, and in a bit of time she will be better and I swear to you, I'll let you marry her and you ain't even gonna have to pay her debt off, it's been paid."

When Hank reproached her, he was cautious not to frighten her, to little avail, the wild look in her eyes exposed that while she clutched to him, and she was just as terrified of him now as ever. That night confirmed it as they laid down to rest, the stress taking the toll on everyone. Abby rested without being able to sleep in Hank's arms, his breathing heavy, but she knew he wasn't asleep either. The tiny flame of fear was raging inside her, and she knew if she didn't speak up now when she had the chance, alone, she might never be able to get it off her chest.

"Hank? Are you awake?" He shifted to look down at her face, his back shielding them from the others.

"What is it Abby?" Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the bruises bright and violent. Her lips trembled but she kept her eyes with his.

"Hank, when we get back, are you going to make me whore again? Because I can't bear the thought of letting a man touch me that way ever again, but if you let me be, if you just let me do other things, Hank I'll give myself to you whenever you want, anytime, I won't argue, I won't fight you, please, please just don't make me give myself to other people, to strangers every night, please I'll do whatever you ask and I'll never say no. I will let you have me anytime, anyplace." She reached for his hand and pulled it against her breast then down the front of her body before replacing it, his hand resting for a moment against her heart as it raced, waiting to see how he would respond, inwardly he recoiled at himself for even hesitating, and in that moment began to mentally whip himself as he realized he was in love with her, trying to dismiss the realization as soon as it came, but it had already taken root. "Please, go ahead, I promise I won't be disagreeable." Her voice was painfully soft, and she could no longer keep her eyes with his.

The tears came as soon as she finished speaking, her body shaking, fear eminent in her eyes; he had felt her heart racing. He now realized she'd been thinking about the very thing he had since he'd found her, he wondered how she'd ever got herself to this point to be able and voice how she felt. He pulled her up into his arms, facing them away from the campfire, her frail body on his lap, but her eyes still met his. He slung his arms around her sides, giving her the support he knew she'd need. And then he spoke:

"Abby I ain't ever gonna make you whore again, you hear me? I also ain't ever going to take you again, ever. If you want to be left alone and never touched by a man again, you ain't gonna have too. I ain't sure what to do with you, but I'll try and find you some kind of work, if worse comes to worse I'll send you to another town and keep you with money 'til you can get a new start." Tears poured down her cheeks and he wondered what was wrong now. But relief had poured through her body and she had no idea how to properly display it.

"I don't want to be sent away, I don't trust anyone else, but if I ain't gotta service anyone I'd like it that way. I just, feel so, so…" he didn't know what to say, but knew she didn't lie. He wiped the tears off of her cheeks in the dark, and pulled her back down with him, waiting until she was asleep to relax. His thoughts raced as he sat up next to her, gently brushing the back of his hand against her face, pale in the moonlight. He was upset with himself for letting anything get to this point, how badly he wanted to love her, to take her and keep her as his forever, but he knew she only responded as such to him out of fear and safety was sought in him. He wasn't angry with her, he was angry he had ever let himself feel for another woman. He lay back down beside her, the night's events running through his mind on a continually cycle. Had she felt as violated by him when he had not initially pulled his hand away as when Tobey had touched her? She had not recoiled against him, but she awaited his response in tension.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I forgot to add this when I was posting yesterday, I just wanted to say **_thank you so verrrrrrrrrrrrrrry much_** to everyone who reads and reviews this. I love hearing what you have to say, it means the world to me! Please keep coming back and I hope in the end you are satisfied with the results. I have recently done some changing about in my thinking of how I want this story to end so please bear with me as after a couple of more postings, I may not be able to post as often. I do hope you will be please with the final results:) So please read, review--but most of all enjoy!

They made it back to Colorado Springs the following night. For Abby's sake, Hank was glad of it, she'd become more despondent during the day, acting more and more frightened and only when she saw the lights of town did he feel her relax a bit. Immediately he left the horses with the men who ended their journey at Robert Lee's and carried her towards the clinic.

No sooner had Dr. Quinn led her in then Abby broke down, sobbing, her body shook as Dr. Quinn led her away as a weary Hank slid onto the bench outside of the clinic, thankful the darkness meant the town was quiet and kept prying eyes away. Inside, Dr. Quinn stripped away Abby's clothing, or rather what was left of it, and examined her and gently led her into the tub awaiting her with warm water. Pressing a cup of herbal tea into Abby's hands, she told her to sip it gently as she got her medical supplies together and went out to talk to Hank.

Half-asleep Hank groggily shifted to stand when Michaela opened the door and invited him in.

"Please sit Hank, you must be half dead, would you like some tea? I'm afraid I have nothing stronger." He nodded, grateful for anything minus musty water at that point, although a stiff drink would have thrilled him to his core. As Michaela readied the tea, Hank asked the question which has been plaguing him the entire ride back.

"Is she gonna be alright Michaela?"

"Physically I think she will recover, although she was treated with brutality, I am hoping for her sake she is not with child. As emotionally she is scarred and she is terrified, understandably so, while her body is depleted of nutrients currently. Hank if you will, I need you to let me keep her here for some time to get healthy. Also, I think that you should realize that after a traumatizing event like this, you will only be doing more harm to her if you try to make her—." He cut her off quickly when he saw where this comment was headed, his voice rougher with emotion than he meant it, but he could not cover it no matter how he tried. Michaela watched him closely and let him speak without interruption.

"I ain't ever making her whore again. We'll figure somethin' out, but she's paid her debt. If Timothy Dawson asks again to marry her, I will let her go in a heartbeat. I wouldn't make her go back to anything that'll just force her to remember what happened." Michaela continued to survey him carefully before responding.

"Hank, I must say I never took you to be one to care that much about these girls."

"I know you don't agree with my business Michaela, but it's a business; a way to make a living and until there's no need for my said profession I'll keep at it. But I wouldn't ever put a girl through what Abby had happen to her, I realize it's my fault, but I never intentionally woulda put her through that sorta hell. Do what you need, take as long as you need, I'll cover her medical bills—any and all of them. I'm gonna head over to the saloon to check on everythin', but I'll check in tomorrow morning. Goodnight Mike."

"Goodnight Hank." He was almost out the door when he turned and caught Dr. Quinn once more by surprise. "And Michaela, thank you." She nodded as he left, uncertain if she would ever fully understand Hank Lawson, and realized in some cases that some men are better left not understood.

Abby slept restlessly all night, Dr. Quinn stayed by her side and mopped her sweating brow, debating whether or not to go get Hank. Abby called out for help continuously, and Dr. Quinn would grasp her hand tightly and try to comfort the young woman with no avail. A little before five as the sun began it's slow and long ascent into the sky, Michaela went downstairs to brew a fresh pot of tea. Stirring in the loose tea leaves, a knock startled her, it was Hank. He looked worse than earlier, as if sleep had also evaded him all night.

"Come in Hank, I was about to make a fresh pot of tea, can I offer you any?"

"No, but thanks, how is she?"

"Restless, she is asleep to an extent, I gave her some tea last night to help her relax, but it seems her nightmares are battling her for rest. I am going to make a fresh cup of tea, she really just needs to be able to sleep and be still to heal."

"Can I see her?"

"Sure, take this up to her and try to get her to sip on it. She's completely battered and I'm not sure how long it will be before I know the full extent of all her injuries. Right now, the key thing is for her to be able to rest." Michaela handed him the warm mug of herbal tea and watched him as he walked away, noticing that the usual arrogance absent in his gait. When he entered the room, Abby woke up, but she said nothing as he helped her sit up in bed. Abby accepted the tea, her face was flushed and sweaty, but she shivered even as she sipped at the hot tea. There seemed to be a pile of quilts over her, albeit the early fall. Finally Hank spoke as she watched him, waiting.

"How you feelin' Abby?"

"I don't, I can't sleep and it's all I want to do, sleep away...forever." Her eyes were wearied; her voice haggard. Her features were delicate as if a sculpture had painstakingly created her face.

"Well the sleep will come, yer safe now." He tried to reassure her.

"That's what you both keep saying." But Abby's tone let him know she didn't truly believe them. Hank had personally shot and killed Tobey; he had told Abby this but it seemed to make little difference to her. It had made all the difference in the world to Hank.

"Listen Abby," Hank sat down on the foot of her bed and placed a hand on her covered left knee, "Timmy asked me again early this morning to let you marry him, he wants to take you out of this mess completely, I think you should accept, he's a good man. He just wants to take care of you. You don't owe me anything."

Abby looked at him, hearing the words and felt the tears begin the slide quickly down her bruised cheeks, shaking her head she tried to move away but Hank caught her and set her tea down on the table beside her pulling her into his arms, trying to soothe her. But this time it would not work and she pulled herself from him, sobbing as if she couldn't breathe, as he tried desperately to calm her, all the tears she had refused to cry when Tobey had her, now refused to let her quit them. Dr. Quinn appeared at the door, having heard the sobs. Michaela was just as stunned as Hank and also unable to calm her, eventually pulling from her pocket a cloth and produced a small bottle applying to it, she placed over Abby's nose and mouth. Breathing in the medication lulled Abby into a light sedation as Hank helped Dr. Quinn rearrange her in the bed and pull the covers up over her lithe form. He was unable to tear his gaze from her, finally speaking when Michaela suggested they let her be.

"I'm sorry I upset her." Michaela looked long and hard at Hank before responding, the weariness of her long night settling in as she responded.

"Hank, I know at this point you want Abby to be safe, but listen to me, after what she has been through the last thing she needs is a man controlling her, least of all one she is legally bound too. She took to you because you saved her from that hell hole, but at the same token you owned beforehand anyways. Timothy is someone she was in love with, but what happened she is probably too ashamed to let him near her, hopefully we can work through this as she heals, but there is a chance she may never be able to heal in the way we hope she might."

"She might never take to him or really any man again?"

"Time will tell, it might just be safest to not mention Tim, I turned him away last night after you left. Abby needs to be alone right now, but do come back to check on her. She will be able to rest for a bit with what I gave her. I will let you know if anything changes, stop by later on today if you can." Hank nodded and left without a word, his mind heavy with everything Dr. Mike had laid out before him.

Days turned into weeks and Abby's body started to heal. She refused to see Timmy but always let Dr. Mike allow Hank into visit her. Dr. Mike didn't seem to have an explanation as to why Abby refused any other visitor but Hank could go in, and at first sit in silence with her, but eventually he'd discuss with her the affairs of the saloon. She sat quietly and listening, her face still held lingering remnants of light bruises which had been so deep they'd made her face appear like a battered potato. She listened, but spoke little, her eyes always distant, the color never as bright as it could be; it seemed the blue faded away with her spirit. Abby had no fire left in her soul it seemed, she was devoid of what she had once been like. Hank never missed a day though Dr. Mike noted, while she kept her observation with herself, she was surprised when one day she heard the gentle lull of laughter floating down the stairs, she knew the laughter did not belong to Hank.

On the day Dr. Quinn asked Abby to stay on with her family until she could help her find a new position in the town, Abby thanked her but refused. Dr. Quinn surprised, went about some regular business wondering how to persuade the girl, but when she returned to speak with her, the bed was made and she was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I apologize for my tardiness in updating, this chapter and the next are my two final complete ones as of now--this does not mean the story is over, it does however mean I have to get my butt in gear ASAP and get writing. I know the end is in sight, I just am having a hard time getting there. Much of these excuses come from the fact I have begun working basically full time at a somewhat life-draining job. So despite all that THANK YOU as always for reading and I ALWAYS appreciate your thoughts, between you and my friends I had no idea how well-liked Hank was...interesting, very interesting!**

For two months Abby manned the bar, and Hank let her do as she pleased. She avoided the townsfolk save for who she saw in the bar. If Timmy came in as he did occasionally she would set him up like anyone else, but the second he tried to push for anything further she would shut him right down. Birdie bitched and moaned at every turn, but Hank set her straight and told her if she so much as looked cruelly in Abby's direction, he'd send her off with the next backwoodsman who asked. Abby often slept on a cot in the kitchen, content to be left to herself, even if she had no place to call her own any longer, except most nights she eventually found her way to Hank.

Hank watched her carefully day in and day out, waiting for the cracks to start showing, and eventually they did. She began taking more drink customers bought for her and drinking them straight. She seemed more distant with him, when before she had clung to him. The first several nights he'd found her in his bed, with no heart to kick her out. And Myra noticed it too, and tried to plead with Abby to take up Timmy on his still-standing offer.

Then three months in to Abby's return, a breaking point was reached. Hank noticed she accepted more and more drinks with customers and drank them, not spit them out in a polite fashion. More nights Abby ended her shift on the verge of drunk, if not already drunk. One night she was flirting with two men who were not regulars, and while the saloon was busy, Hank tried to keep a close eye on her. When Myra was suddenly tending the bar, he rushed over demanding Abby's whereabouts.

"Hank I ain't sure, I just came downstairs to the bar empty of her, she ain't no where to be seen I think. I'm sorry."

"No it ain't your fault, just keep tending bar and I'll find her." Myra nodded as she continued filling up drinks. Hank found Abby in the kitchen the two men were trying to persuade her to follow them out to their horses. No sooner had Hank stepped into the kitchen than they lit out of their quicker than lightening flashes in a storm. Abby did not turn to look at him, but while he was so angry with her for putting herself in this situation he saved his anger for a change. Coming around to face her, he kneeled down so as to be more eye level with her. His voice was kinder than he ever remembered making it when upset with someone.

"Listen, why don't you head up to bed? You've had enough for one night. But listen Abby you got be more careful. It's fine to have a few drinks with customers but you've been drinking more and more each night." His comments hit their mark, and she let the tears that had burned behind her eyes every night when she thought of what had happened lace across her cheeks. Before the incident she had been able to keep her tears in check, but now in the dim kitchen, they flowed. Hank gently placed his hands on either side of her face and wiped them away with his thumbs. His touch was rough, but only because his hands were worn and calloused, Abby wouldn't have had it any other way. Minutes later she said painfully: "I'm ruined; no one who doesn't have to pay will want me again."

Floored at first Hank did not know how to respond. Timothy Dawson wanted to marry her but Hank; he too wanted her for Christ sake. Every night she moved against him in her sleep, she was so small and warm to the touch, but every night he had fought away his desire for her. He hadn't had a decent night sleep in the months since she had returned to the saloon and realized that first night she crawled into bed next to him how scared he had been he had lost her for good. Yet, given the option he'd take an eternity of sleepless nights rather than not have her in his arms. He came to see, ashamed, that this was why he had been so hard on her, because you if she hated him then how could he love her? He had longed thought you couldn't love someone who hated you, but just as quickly he had realized he couldn't live with himself if she hated him, and somehow despite everything she didn't. And each night since, one way or another she had ended up in his bed, whether they started that way or she came in during the night. He knew the nightmare of what had happened still plagued her, more than once had he pulled her shaking form against his and somehow without waking he had soothed away her demons. He loved her, and knew now this was why he hadn't been able to let her go before. But he had learned the hard way in the past that love wasn't necessarily an easy game, it meant shades of gray, never black and white.

Hank ran a hand through her hair as he stood, she had gained a bit of weight back now from when she had been so gaunt. But more than ever he found her beautiful and desirable. Leaning forward he tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him, and he saw that her eyes held faint shadows beneath them, from more drinking and sleeping poorly. Once their eyes were locked she did not let his gaze wander elsewhere, his could not surrender her to her pain alone. Those brilliant beautiful eyes shining with tears lingering, waiting whether to fall or dry away with a laugh, how long had it been since Hank had heard Abby laugh, not since that one day in the clinic? He didn't even remember the sound, nights they didn't sleep, he talked to her, told her stories, and she didn't ever laugh though, just rested quietly against him. How many nights he had at times when he thought she was asleep pull away from her, but she had felt his body stiffen aside hers, but after his initial rejection she didn't think she could bear it again, so she had done nothing.

He inched his head closer to hers and she closed her eyes to him as she moved her face towards him, until their lips met. Hank pulled her into his arms, his body tight against hers as he deepened the kiss, his entire body full of sensation as his skin prickled against the taste of Abby. She made no noise but moved to wrap her arms around his neck, deeply breathing in his scent of tobacco, sweat and alcohol. Safety lay in Hank, but she felt something more important in his kiss, Hank's lips held desire. He _desired_ her. Finally he pulled away, his mouth and body on fire for her; she stared at him, awaiting his next movement. If he wanted her, she would give herself to him, she didn't desire him sexually, but if that was what he wanted, that was what she would give because she thought no man could ever want her again, she was beyond soiled goods. She wanted him to hold onto her as she did emotionally to him, without making him feel strangled and yet he would not take from her what she would offer all too freely.

"Go up to bed," he whispered, his voice husky, even as he tried to hide it "I'll be up as soon as I can." She nodded, her eyes haunting him, and then she was gone. Hank tried to breathe, tried to force his mind to clear so that his lust would lay aside for his heart to do the talking. He loved her, but he knew if he slept with her, he would be taking advantage of her. It would take her years to see that.

And it was because he loved her that tomorrow he would send her away, for her own good, his own good would let him keep her here, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. Kissing her forehead, she walked away from him, thinking he would join her in his bed, but he would not, because he could not.

It was barely dawn when she woke and found that he wasn't there. Getting up, she pulled a light woolen blanket up off the foot of the bed and made her way downstairs. Hank was asleep at his desk in his office, his hair poured over the top of his head, down over his arms as he slept. Shutting and locking the door behind her, Abby walked nimbly over to him, laying a gentle hand on the nape of his neck. The touch woke him, and lifted his head to look at her bleary eyed, at first thinking this was all a dream.

"Abby, are you alright?" His voice was sleep filled, his face drawn with the struggle he had been battling.

"Hank why are you afraid of me? Am I as despicable or am I worse then I imagine myself to be?" Hank signed, looking away as she sat down on the desk top beside him.

"Oh god Abby, it's not that." His voice sounded heavy as if what he had to say was going to wear at him. "Abby," He looked her straight in the eye. "God, how do I tell you everything you think about yourself is so goddamned wrong? I love you Abby, god I want you as mine more than anything. But you don't love me, you don't want me—and you shouldn't, you are in love with Dawson. You cling to me because of what happened to you. Don't shake your head; if I were to do with you as I wished, if I took you, you would hate me for it. Even if I made an honest woman out of you, which is the only way I would do it, years later, because maybe not today, but you would come to hate me. You would Abby."

"No Hank, no, you don't even have to marry me, I swear I don't care." Her voice was ragged as she willed herself not to cry.

"Abby if I thought you were in love with me, I know you think you might be, but you aren't Abby, you aren't, do you hear me? If I thought that you were, I would quit this all and marry you, and take you away." His voice was the clearest she had ever heard it.

"I'm telling you I do, I swear to you, I'm terrified of everything and everyone but when I'm with you I do feel like I can face the things I can't." She touched his folded hands with her own, he gently clamped his hands to hold hers tightly, before reaching up to touch her face and brush away phantom stray wisps. This is what Myra had meant, true love had nothing to do with owning another person, it was about belonging but he hadn't loved her enough to even consider it. He had been a bastard; he had lost out in life because he hadn't cared enough. Now he would lose Abby, but knew because it was the right thing, because he knew he was right, that if he didn't force her to leave, he would do the things he said and she would come to hate him.

"Hank, no, you don't mean it." She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes, she felt his hands shift and wrap around her back. His spine tingled, his body unable to hold back. It had been months since Hank had slept with anyone, and the only person he actually wanted to make love to was right here, willing. His breath caught in his throat as he pulled her onto his lap. Abby could feel he wanted her, she knew it, and pulling back, let the blanket fall away as she pulled off her night slip. Her bare flesh was warm to Hank's touch, unable to pull his eyes from her. He couldn't help himself, and gave in as she reached for his belt, trying as gently as possible to fully bring her onto him. He groaned unable to keep himself in check as he buried his head into her chest. Silently, they rose in unison as she wrapped herself around him, her arms locked around his neck. Abby tried to hide her shaking, her fear as she gave herself willingly to him. Soon her breathing grew labored, matching his which had been ragged from the moment she had kissed him. His hands danced down her back, pulling her into him, he tried to pull her back to stare into her face, her eyes he so loved but she would not be unpried. Long after they had finished they stayed put until he realized she was shivering, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.

"Please Hank, love me, if you do, let yourself truly love me." He couldn't speak, he couldn't see her face, in that instant he hated himself, and he knew in time she would hate both him and herself fiercely. The time would come when he feared her regrets of this morning would be more then she could bear. He pulled her away from him, but she sat frozen on the edge as he stood up and rebuckled his belt.

"Abby I'm so sorry, oh my god Abby please forgive me. I wronged you worse than anyone ever could." He couldn't meet her eye, was he really that weak? How in the hell could he have done that to her?

"Hank, nothing has to change, I don't care how you use me, just don't let me go." Her voice was tense, sensing she had displeased him. How jaded she was, she would enslave herself to him if he would let her. She placed a hand lightly on his chest, as he clasped it against his heart and looked into her eyes. How hard had it been for her to live through the days and nights Tobey and his gang had used her against her will over and over again for their pleasure.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I apologize for the lengthy absence between updates, there really is no excuse, but I would suggest reviewing the chapter before again before you read this one, you might hate me a little for what I did. I know my best friend who reads everything I write first certainly did. But please as always, read, review and ENJOY!

A knock on the door jarred Hank and he sat up quickly, realizing everything was indeed a dream. It was just after six am; he got up and answered the door groggily to see Abby. She stood shivering in his doorway.

"You're right Hank, I'm afraid." Her face was pale and her lips an unhealthy color, shaking with a shiver. His dream of sleeping with her had shaken him badly, and now here she was, just as shaken as him perhaps. "I'm afraid that every night you will just disappear and Tobey will reappear and I'll be taken and killed, or worse he'll keep me alive just to keep fuckin' me until I can't stop cryin' or stand the pain. And I cling to you because you are safe. I'm sorry Hank, I don't, I don't love you the way I said I do. I'm just so scared of everyone else. I—." He pulled her into his arms, glad his dream would never come to fruition, and he could never undo that wrong if he had taken her.

"Abby, I've been thinking through the night, I'm going to send you to Boston, Dr. Mike said she can get you set up someplace safe. It'll be a new beginning." She shook her head but did not speak, as she breathed him in, knowing he loved her, but she did not love him the some way. And he had known that all along and still he had treated her the best way he knew how.

Abby couldn't hold the tears back any longer as the train pulled away from Denver's station. Her eyes had been stinging and aching since the coach had left Colorado Springs the morning before. She hadn't been able to sleep then and doubted she would be able to now. Michaela had a friend meeting Abby in Boston, who was going to take her in, get her started in a new life, and the old one would never have to be revisited once more. Saying "goodbyes" hadn't been that hard initially, but when she had bid Hank farewell she felt as if something wasn't right. As if, perhaps, in reality everything she said and did was a sham of a lie, Hank had promised her to keep her whereabouts quiet for as long as possible. Dr. Mike had been the one to wire ahead, and set everything up for her new life.

In the week after Abby had come to Hank in the wee hours of the morning, she had stayed at Dr. Mike's as things were prepared for her trip. Hank had steered clear of her for the most part, Abby didn't question him for it, and she didn't bother with trying to fully understand why. She helped Michaela when plausible, and when the week had come to a close, she packed her sole carpet bag, dressed in an outfit Michela's daughter Colleen had tailored for her from an older one of Dr. Mike's and boarded the stage early in the morning. As the stage pulled away, Michaela watched Hank carefully, but his face was guarded and void of any emotion she might think lingered there.

Hank was a locked box, and it had been a brief time when Abby had been able to unlock him, he was lost again. What Dr. Mike didn't realize was that just about the year Abby had been with Hank, he had fallen fully in love with her. Abby might know it now, but had no idea that he had wanted her as his own from that first morning after she had given herself to him at the suggestion of Birdie. Abby had no idea how strong the hold she had over him was. He'd once stated that he wasn't going to ever let a sole woman rule him, he liked his _whiskey_ and his _**women **_too much. But if Abby had asked him, he would have left it all in a heartbeat. Yet without his failed love of Myra, this could have never transpired.

It was all a bit ridiculous he thought to himself as he mulled it over a bottle of whiskey in his office. He couldn't get to drinking alone, or too much, he had a business to run and the sooner he put that girl out of his head, the better. And so Hank Lawson did his best from that moment on to never mention Abby again, although from time to time he would find himself over the years thinking about her occasionally. He tried other women to replace her—whores and widows, and yet none satisfied him. He grew more successful as the town grew larger with the arrival of the train, and more customers meant more girls, and his pocket grew quite heavy with wealth. But still, even then he could never fully forget her; _the one that got away_.

Also unable to forget Abby was Timothy Dawson who was forced several months to wait until Hank would finally tell him where she was. Dr. Mike kept her part in the bargain and said little, even if asked; she had told her children that if they knew anything of the situation it was best if they pretended not to. An innocent young woman had another chance at life, and the less that was said, the better. Five months after Abby left she received a letter from Timmy; it shocked her so much she almost threw it straight into the fire instead of reading it.

Prior five months, Abby had arrived to Boston exhausted and cried out to the warm welcome a widow in her sixties whose late-husband had been a close friend of Dr. Mike's father. Mrs. Peterson, who insisted that Abby call her first name, Greta, a beautiful older lady whose gray hair hung in braids at night as she wrote a column for the local paper. She used a man's penname to sell her stories, and enjoyed the company of her new companion while they lived a quiet but comfortable life. It took Abby sometime to warm up to Greta who showed nothing but kindness and did her best to help Abby start her new life. It was Greta who, quill in hand with ink dripping had told Abby she had better read the damn thing or she would.

"It is not as if you must respond, but at least read it." Abby complied, her hands shaking, her heart felt as if it would beat straight out of her chest. Unfolding the crisp page she read the blackened ink boldly against the cream colored paper. It struck her odd as she had never seen his handwriting before; it flowed elegantly but messily across the page. It looped up and down across the lines as she tried to keep herself together; she had never expected to hear from him again.

_My dear Abby,_

_ It's been months since I saw you last, I still think about you every day, even the distance between us won't change that. I asked Hank of your whereabouts more times than I care to remember, if you're wondering why he finally told me, I think he knows we belong together. Forgive him if you're angry with him, he means you nothing but the best. It's what you deserve Abby, a new life with a clean slate—nothing holding you back. I want to be a part of your new life Abby, please let me in. I'll write again soon._

_ Love,_

_ Timmy_

Abby didn't respond, but the letters continued to arrive, a letter a week, they usually came about a month or so after he sent them. She never wrote back but read them each dutifully, placing them in a small wooden box that Greta had left on her dresser. Abby initially had assumed it was a jewelry box, but she had never owned a piece anything valuable in her life, and she never had had her ears pierced so there was nothing of value to safeguard. She enjoyed her new life for the most part, she still turned heads on the street but she grew to quickly ignore it. Greta enrolled her in a finishing school of sorts, she learned basic tasks, some of which she already knew and some of which helped to refine her. Her accent was smoothed out, she learned the proper way to talk which reminded her of Michaela and turned into a lady. Greta never asked of her past, and she never offered an explanation, truly wondering how much the elder lady knew of her life.


	17. Chapter 17

A little after a year arriving in Boston Abby received a letter from Timmy stating it would be his last unless he heard from her. She mulled over this for a week, never letting Greta know before she wrote him for the first time. Her penmanship surprised even herself as she rarely wrote and began a letter that she thought was in her heart of hearts.

_Mr. Dawson,_

_How are you Timmy? I receive your letters regularly. I am sorry it has taken me so long to return a response, please forgive my tardiness. I am well; Boston seems to fit as I am now working in a small seamstress shop. I just began, not but two weeks ago and thus far enjoy seeing the process of how dresses are made. I live with a widow named Greta, she is quiet although kind, she keeps mostly to herself and her written work, and she has secretly been published several times over. Her husband passed away five years ago, they had no children. _

_You asked a few times if I ever think of you. I do, its, I just do not like to think of the past if I can help it, usually I can pretend it was all a horrific nightmare but sometimes it has a way of creeping back into me. I do not miss the saloon, but I miss seeing you. How is the ranch these days? Is Ryan still working with you? Or did he go back to California? Do you ever go into the saloon is Myra still there?_

_I am sorry I could not accept your offer of marriage, but at the time after everything happened, I just could not imagine any man taking me as his own once I was free._

_Most affectionately,_

_Abby_

His response came quickly and in a timely manner.

_Dearest Abby,_

_I just about dropped your letter in my soup as I realized whom it was from. With fall coming we've had a bit of an early cold snap, the weather has taken a turn for the worse with late summer rains. I am pleased to hear you are doing so well in your new life, it seems the fit is well suited. With hope you will say yes, I would like to come visit you this fall once the harvest is over, I can arrange the plans, you need only say when. During this time I look forward to moving forward into a new phase of our relationship and we can begin planning more about our future. I have long awaited when you would allow me back in your life, and now that you have it feels right, just as it always should have been. I'll write again soon, but I want to get this in today's post, so keep well and know I think of you often. _

_Love,_

_Your Timothy _

Then came the telegram.

**Abby. I am on my way to Boston. Be there next week. T. Dawson**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Abby ripped up the telegram she had left at her vanity since she'd first received it two weeks ago. Tim had arrived but a week ago, and no sooner had he swept her into his arms and kissed her did she realize she wasn't in love with him. As the week continued, she realized that she in truth most likely never had been. Instead this evening when she came clean with team confessing that she had no intention of marrying him or returning to Colorado he had said very little, and yet gotten everything he had been wanting in return. She shivered underneath her quilts, even though it was early December, the true winter of the Northeast had yet to fully set in, and yet Abby could not get warm. Sitting up in bed, she pulled a woolen afghan off of the end of the quilted plateau and wrapped it around her-self as she slipped out of bed and down to the kitchen.

Greta was long since asleep; she hadn't even heard Abby come in. The two of them moved effortlessly around one another, polite and comfortable but never too intimate, the elder woman had her own life she lived, while Abby's rotated seemingly out of control. But sometimes; like now, Abby wished she could go wake Greta and confide in her, but if she were to do that now she would have to tell Greta the truth about everything, and that simply would not do. But then again, Abby surmised to herself, even telling Greta the partial truth would not do, as far as she knew Greta really had no idea of Abby's actual past. And frankly, that was probably for the best Abby thought as she placed the teakettle onto the stove. The water began to slowly reach a steady boil as she reached for the bag of loose Earl Gray tea sitting in the small worn tea caddy.

Once her tea was readied she took her lit candle with her and disappeared into the library, her mind was far from finding any solace and most likely her body would refuse the sleep she desperately desired to encompass her. Abby tried to ignore the feeling gnawing at her soul, she shivered despite the hot liquid she sipped albeit it burning her tongue, a piece of paper she held in her hand lay blank and she knew it would remain such. Setting it aside, she reached for a well worn copy of a Jane Austen novel, it wouldn't matter which one it was, Abby had read all six several times over since she had been introduced to Austen by Greta.

Feeling sick, Abby paced the Persian carpeted floor of the old room, wishing she could make the events of the evening a distant memory, which what had occurred wasn't real. And yet she couldn't make herself believe a lie when the truth was she had been willing to do anything to pacify the situation at it seemed to have gotten out of hand. She wondered what Jane Austen would have done with her as a character, but then again Abby thought, Austen probably wouldn't have had anything to do with a character like her if she was perfectly honest with herself.

Timothy Dawson had been furious with her, of course she should have expected that he would have been angry, but Abby had never guessed he had a cruel steak a mile wide. In her old life, he was one of the few men she ever could have allowed the thought of trusting to enter her mind, but now that was erased as she began to feel the tears of despair leaking outwardly. Sitting back into the chair she tossed the novel onto the ottoman and tucked her knees up under her chin.

Abby was weary, her soul was no longer settled, she had made a mistake that could not be undone and therefore a letter that she had been wanting to write all week would now go unwritten. Closing her eyes she pressed her fists into her eyes causing a blinding pain, willing herself not to cry, she had to get it together and yet she was failing miserably so she allowed herself tears tonight. But tomorrow she had to sweep this under the rug and move forward. Her life in Colorado Springs was officially over, no longer would she think of that town or the people it held any longer. Timothy wouldn't hurt her again for he would be gone before the rooster would crow.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: After a very lengthy absence and I imagine a loss of anyone who read this back when I posted with some regularity I am going to post to the end of what I have written. I don't know that this story will ever feel fully finished but after the next few chapters you can decide (note: this current chapter is not the final chapter). And how appropriate after three years, the story itself has moved ahead three years. I apologize for any editing issues and I hope that you enjoy. **

**Three Years Later**

"I'm sorry miss, but she isn't going to recover from this. I'll be back in the morning to check on her, I'll leave this with you for the pain, but you might want to start thinking about funeral plans for Mrs. Peterson, or she might have taken care of that after Theodore passed away several years ago. Again I am sorry." Abby sighed as she shut the door behind the good doctor, Paul Kellerstone had attended dutifully to Greta ever since she had started feeling poorly several months months prior. It was just before Christmas, but she had fussed away the notion of a doctor, insisting she was just overwhelmed by Christmas festivities. Abby had bid Greta her wishes but when January had come and gone, she was worse for the wear. Having lost weight and her gaunt cheeks more noticable with each day, Abby had begged Greta to see a doctor, once again the notion was rejected until a few days later.

Abby had just arrived home from work, her fiance Nathan was due to arrive any moment to retrieve her for dinner at his parents, Greta would see a doctor, but she wanted to know of Abby's past. At that moment the choice between keeping her unsavory past a secret and the well fare of Greta was a decision she barely had to think about, she agreed and immediately called for a doctor as Nathan arrived.

Nathan Seymour was seven years older than her, came from a family of new money who cared little about the societal rules of propriety. Abby had met him through his sister Corinna, a staple customer in the dress shop. She was married two years ago, and it was during one these fittings right before the marriage to a successful banker ten years older than Corrina. A smart match anyone would say except for Abby because it did not seem that Corrina loved her fiance, but had gone through with the wedding anyhow. But one day during a fitting Nathan had arrived to meet his sister and he had struck up a conversation with Abby. Friendly and engaging, Nathan Seymour had made her laugh and smile and never once probed further into her past with exeption to where she had arrived to Boston from, she had said her mother had left her family when she young, and her father had left her to the Colorado territory.

Abby promised but made Greta sit down in the parlor, instructing their thrice weekly housekeeper Ms. Haines to let Nathan into the library on her way out, she would first make Greta comfortable. But Greta said on no uncertain terms was Abby to cancel on Nathan, but tell him the truth and then get the doctor. Abby took off her overcoat as she hung it on a peg by the door before entering the library finding Nathan sitting on the edge of the worn leather ottoman, he was relaxed, looking handsome as ever. Bright blue eyes smiled at her, as his dark wavy hair fell at his collar; a constant blight to his mother. He was the youngest son with three older brothers and Corrinna, the baby sister now with a baby of her own on the way. The Seymour family had only come into money in the last fifty years, and while they were invited to all the right events, they did not kid themselves in believing that they weren't still talked about continually behind their backs.

Abby, had been the most surprised when she learned Nathan's parents had few qualms with his interest in her. In fact Mrs. Seymour, despite being a woman prone to nervous hysterics who reminded Abby much of Mrs. Bennett in _Pride and Prejudice, _had quickly welcomed Abby into their family once the engagement had been announced but three months past. Mr. Seymour, who insisted everyone-including the butcher call him Vic, short for Victor was a jolly stout man, who found the bright spot in even the dullest of situations. Like Nathan, he had a penchant for falling asleep during the sermons on Sunday morning and was known to cut a chuckle at the slightest mess-up in a less than harmonious choir. Even now, Abby felt the comforting presence which the Seymour's seemed to be known for radiating from Nathan. He stood, stretched slightly and strode towards Abby pulling her into his arms. A gentle kiss on her lips, and he asked if she was ready to leave or if she wanted to freshen up. Yet, when she breathed in his scent she told him quickly about the situation with Greta, and he agreed immediately that a doctor must be called.

Once they tracked down a doctor, and Greta was settled in bed, insisting they continued on their journey it was Nathan who insisted that Abby stay with her. Grateful Abby walked her fiance to the door, certain that this facade she kept up would crack before she did. It wasn't that she didn't love Nathan because he was lovable, he was kind and sweet and had worked long and hard to woo Abby. After Timothy had left she no longer had any touch with anyone in Colorado. Occasionally Greta would mention that a letter had arrived from Michaela Quinn, offering to let Abby read it if she wished, but inexplicably Abby found the thought always made her want to suffocate. It took her many years to finally realize why she never was able to read the correspondences.

Brushing tears away from her cheeks as Abby leaned against the door, she knew the battle she was about to endure was just a continuation of the one begun when she had first sat beside Greta and took her hand as she had begun her life story. Greta had listened quietly, never letting go of Abby's as she learned much more of the young woman's story which Michaela had only ever hinted at. Abby was able to look at Greta straight in the eye as she told her everything, even the sordid details which accompanied her experience in Tobey's hell. What Abby left out was what had happened with Timmy when he had come to visit in Boston. Fortunately whether or not Greta bought Abby's story that she and Timmy had realized that there was just too much water under the bridge for them to a forge a future on. After what seemed an eternity, Abby had come to a close in her story and Greta's news came as a shock, freezing Abby to her core.

"Abby dear, I know we've lived the last several years together but sort of always just circled one another. I always thought you needed space, Michaela never went into specifics when she asked me to take you under my roof, but I sensed an urgency to get you out of your situation. Thank God I was able too, but in the few months that I may have left Abby I want to treat you more as a friend not as a boarder. You are a lovely young girl, and the simple truth is Abby, I am dying. I've known it for quite some time, but I always was able to put off the actual declaration of my failing health until tonight. My dear, I have cancer of the stomach and its quite progressive. Promise me you'll let your life continue despite what will start happening. In fact Abby if you think this might be too much for you to bear, I'll help supplement your funds so you can find more comfortable lodging." Abby had shook her head, her heart racing.

"You can't finish this alone Greta, I am staying." And neither of them ever mentioned her leaving again. Greta's next words had shocked Abby however,

"You know dear, I think he did the right thing by letting you go, letting you have a chance at another life. But when I am gone, if you are insistent on staying I want you to promise you will go back at some point. Face that life you left behind and enjoy a new one. The people we meet are sometimes just minor characters in our story of life, but at other times we meet people who change us forever, I charge you with carrying out to find which he was." Abby did not ask for specification as to which "he" Greta was referencing but she knew inwardly she still missed him if she let herself actually think of him. Instead Abby asked the question burning on her lips.

"Are you horribly ashamed of me? I am not proud of what has happened to my life before I arrived here." Greta had laughed lightly, it sounded considerably like china tinkling rather than her usual robust chuckle as she responded, "Of course not Abby, everyone has things which happen to them in their lifetime which is out of our control. Unfortunately not everyone is always granted a second chance to revive their life, but my dear you were given that and I hope that once I am gone you will continue to strive after this life you have been making with Nathan." Abby closed her eyes at his name, telling Greta the truth of her past had awakened within her a sense of the dishonestly she was flouting in front of him, but also felt an alarming sense of distrust towards him if he knew her whole truth, and then flowing through her was the slight twinge of a heartbreak knowing that he was not her future any longer.

"I don't think I can marry him Greta." The old woman had shaken her head, a white curl falling downward against her neck, as she struggled to sit more up in bed, the medicine which the doctor had given her was making her sleepy, but she had to get this out. "Nathan Seymour is a good man Abby, he is your future, he will make you happy, and if he hasn't asked for your past then consider this; he loves you even without knowing and it doesn't bother him. Please think that over before you do something drastic, because Abby if you reject him its because you have to go back and face your demons.

"A beautiful young woman like yourself should not be left alone to herself in this great city for good, dressmaking is a good profession but you have other skills you ought to be developing. And that you haven't is partially my own fault, I should have sent you to classes for that budding artistic talent you possess. Don't look so surprised Abby, I have seen your scatterings of sketches, or playing with colors with bits of fabric, have you ever tried painting Abby? No, well tomorrow I am going to dig out Reggie's old paints sets, Mr. Peterson loved art, his own art never amounted to much but it was a hobby. And even if it is nothing but a hobby for you then good, you need a hobby to develop. Now my dear I have to beg some sleep, I apologize. We'll talk more in the morning." Abby kissed Greta's cheek and departed.

Pacing her room, she stopped twice in front of her vanity, picking up her quill pen but setting it back down promptly before she sat and wrote what exactly lay on her heart. In the end she did finally sit, but not to write the letter she knew ought to be written, instead she wrote one to Nathan then once it was finished read it over before throwing it in her fireplace. She hadn't turned out to be much more than a fool, and with that she crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep.


End file.
